Prodigy
by The Cowman
Summary: My first and only memory is waking up in that white room with four dead men around me. It's a strange feeling being no one. Chapter 7 is up.
1. Genesis

_Standard Disclaimer: I disclaim the notion that I have any standards. Oh, and I don't own any of these characters either._

**Prodigy**

Chapter 1 - Genesis

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

****_In the English language the words "brain" and "mind" are interchangeable, each meaning basically the same thing. I, however, believe differently. I believe that, though the brain and mind inhabit the same space, they are, in fact, entirely different from each other. It is my theory that the mind is what controls involuntary reactions, such as breathing and heartbeat, while the brain is merely the tool used to communicate with the body._

_ This would explain the human organism's ability to control the brain, to think and ponder what they want, and its total lack of control over the mind. I believe that someone who was in complete control of their mind would be able to do any number of amazing things. When a bone is broken the mind registers this and sends a signal to the nerve endings around the break, causing pain as a warning to the organism. Someone in control of their mind could presumably, having received the warning, then stop the mind from sending the signals, eliminating the pain reaction._

_ I think that fire-walkers and other such practices are evidence of partial mind control. I also believe that psychic, telekinetic, and precognitive phenomena are also linked to control of the mind. I intend to prove my theory by studying brain waves. Perhaps, like the brain, the mind sends out some form of energy signature. By studying brain waves, I believe I can find the mind's "frequency" as it were. Once found, these "mind waves" can be measured and, perhaps, even manipulated. Who knows, perhaps we could create the very mysteries that baffle us now._

My first memory is feeling a dull buzz at the base of my skull. A constant tingle that slowly crawled its way around my brain, squeezing as it grew in volume. Pain shot through my body and I was suddenly aware of my breathing again, and of the cold metal table underneath me. I wanted to sit up and open my eyes, but the buzzing continued to gain in volume, becoming a deafening roar between my ears. My limbs began to convulse, curling me up into a fetal position on the table.

Through the roar I heard voices. They were panicked and excited at the same time. One kept asking what I had been given while another kept insisting that it was nothing but ordinary anesthesia. The last voice I heard shouted up over the others, realization and fear giving it a manic edge.

"It's a short. We gotta..." the words were cut off by an explosion in my brain. The roaring gave a final squeeze and then released, shooting outwards, making me feel like an airbag had suddenly blown open inside my skull and there wasn't enough room for it. I think I screamed.

I may have slipped back into unconsciousness after that, I can't be too certain, but I finally opened my eyes only to shut them again against the glare of the ultraviolet light above me. I rolled onto my side, facing away from the light and tried again. This time I kept my eyes open, looking around at where I was. It looked like a hospital room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same antiseptic white and there were several metal operating tables along the wall. High-tech instruments were everywhere, beeping and whirring to each other.

I was so busy looking at the room's contents, that it was a couple minutes before I noticed that the area around my table was a mess. Machines were toppled, tubes and vials were shattered, and four men in white lab coats and masks lay on the floor. I tried to remember what was going on and why I was here, but nothing was coming. I started feeling sick when I realized I didn't remember my own name. And it only worsened as I tried to think of anything or anyone I used to know, only to find that my first and only memory was just two minutes ago when I had woken up on this table. Heck, I didn't even remember what gender I was.

At least the latter problem was easily remedied with a quick look at my body. My chest pretty much confirmed it, but I made a quick feel of my crotch just to be sure. Yep, definitely female. Other than that, however; nada. You'd think I would be more upset by this, but what can I say? Sure, I was panicked; I just woke up in a hospital room with no memories and four doctors who could be dead for all I know. But when all you've got is nothing, lying down and crying just doesn't seem all that important. Besides, I wanted to see what I looked like.

It's a very strange feeling; being no one. I felt worried and scared, but the main emotion was curiosity. I wanted to know how tall I was, what nationality, my weight, my eye color, hair color, skin tone, etc. You can't imagine how annoying it is to know absolutely nothing about yourself. And who knew, maybe seeing my face would jog my memories (if I had any, that is). I stumbled a little as I pulled myself off the table. My legs felt wobbly and my head was still tingling slightly. I leaned on the table for a minute until I felt a little more confident that I could stand, and then went looking for a mirror of some kind. My search ended with a smooth, polished metal tray. Holding it out in front of me, I took what could be my first look at my face.

Correction; what there was of my face. I'll admit, I was slightly alarmed when I saw the state of it. Nothing too gruesome, but still not a comforting sight. My head was shaved, only the barest hint of fuzz could be seen. Several needle marks were visible around my cranium. My left eye was bruised and slightly swelled, the eyeball itself was tinted red from bleeding. Another bruise marred the right side of my face, and a bandage had been taped to the right side of my head, just above my ear.

One of the really concerning things, however, was the blood. I wasn't bleeding at the moment, but I could see where it had dripped from my nose, the corners of my eyes, and even out of my ears. A faint taste of copper told me that my mouth had also recently seen similar conditions. Red drops stained the front of the shoulder strap, white undershirt I had on, showing where the blood had dripped from my face. The gray sweatpants I wore seemed too big for me, but had been tied tightly around my waist. Other than that, I seemed to be about average height, rather thin, not flat chested, but far from voluptuous, and I estimated my age to be around late teens, though with the bruising and bandages it was hard to tell. There were also a couple bandages on my arms and one wrapped around my stomach. This place may look like a hospital, but my current condition didn't make it seem like they had my best health in mind.

A noise from outside the door made me jump. Still wary of my situation, I scurried over to something that looked like a CT scan machine and squeezed behind it. No sooner had I hidden myself than the door opened and I heard someone enter. Their footsteps sounded heavy, like they were wearing boots.

"...re doing some testing on her and the security camera just blanked out," one was saying as they came through the door. Any reply his companion might have made was cut off, presumably by the sight of the destruction in the center of the room.

"Check those two," the sound of their steps quickened as they rushed over to the fallen doctors. There was a brief moment of silence as they looked them over. "These two are gone. Looks like they hit this wall head first. Necks snapped. What about them?"

"They hit pretty hard, but I think they're okay. Still breathing anyway." It sounded like they started sifting through the wreckage after that. The sounds of metal tables and fallen computer monitors persisted for awhile before one of them finally spoke up again.

"Where's the girl?"

"Must've already run. Better tell everyone to start searching."

"I thought all the subjects were being processed in the Ottawa base."

"That's the main one. This was a pet project of the doc's. She had a...." the conversation faded away as the two exited the room. I waited several minutes after hearing the door close and crawled out of my hiding place. Subjects? Pet project? This was sounding less and less like a normal hospital. For a little while I was frozen with indecision. What should I do? I knew what I wanted to do. Find out who I was and what was going on around here, but I didn't have the slightest clue how to go about it.

Finally I happened to notice a bank of computers on the far end of the room. That's what I needed. Computers know everything, if you know how to ask them. Unfortunately, I didn't. The first three computers were not logged on and a password was required to do so. Luckily, one machine had been left on and ready to use, thanks to someone being in the middle of a game of solitaire. I clicked around somewhat aimlessly, looking for anything about patient lists or admissions.

I eventually came across a layout of the building and found one room labeled "Residents' Files". It was located a floor below me and the elevator was a good two or three rooms away. Just my luck. I took a minute to look over the map again, trying to memorize the route, and then made my way to the door. Listening carefully for any footsteps outside, I slowly slid it open a crack and peeked out. I could hear the sounds of people running about in other rooms, but at the moment the hallway was empty.

The metal floor was cold under my bare feet as I slipped out the doorway and ran quickly down the hall. The map had indicated that if I cut through the two rooms directly across from the one I just left, I would then have a straight line to the elevator. Pausing briefly at the doorway to the next room, I listened for sounds. Hearing nothing, I slipped inside. This room appeared to be another "operating" room like the one I had just left. Only this one had a couple cages in the corner with two chimps inside. They didn't react at all to my presence, staring straight ahead looking, quite frankly, drugged out of their heads.

As I walked across the room I saw something blinking out of the corner of my eye. Turning to see what it was I found myself staring at a rotating security camera. My mistake had just barely registered when the PA system crackled to life.

"Attention all security personnel. Escaped patient sighted in testing room 12. Approach with caution. Patient is to be taken alive, though use of extreme force is authorized if needed."

Approach with caution? What did they think I was going to do to them? I looked in pretty good shape, but I didn't think I was any kind of fighter. The chilling thought that I might have some kind of disease that they were afraid of catching, flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside. I dashed out of the room, the sound of approaching guards already behind me. I ran into the next hallway and threw open the first door on my left, only to find three men entering through the door on the other side.

I turned and sprinted farther down the hall, the guards rushing through the door and chasing after me. I burst through the next doorway I came to and ran straight through the room, startling two "doctors" examining some x-rays. As I crashed into the next hallway there were already guards coming down the hall to my right. Turning and running to the left, I kept an eye out for the elevator, finally spotting it at the end of a short hallway leading off to the right.

I turned so sharply I almost slipped, but managed to scramble back to my feet. I didn't bother slowing down as I neared the elevator, letting the back wall of the compartment stop me instead. Spinning around, I hit the button for one floor above. The guards came rushing around the corner as the doors closed.

It was a small elevator, the width barely as wide as my outstretched arms. And the ceiling was easily touched with the hand without even standing on my toes. It was most likely a service elevator. I didn't know where I was going. The guards would simply call the elevator back down and just follow me up here. My worried expression, however, turned into a grin when I noticed the small hatch on the ceiling of the elevator.

Below, the security officers watched the light above the elevator doors to see where it stopped. They called it back down as fast as they could and rode it up to the next floor. Piling out of the small compartment, they split up as they began searching the entire floor.

After the last had gone I slid open the hatch and dropped back down. Hitting the button for the right floor, I couldn't help feeling a little smug at my quick thinking. The elevator rattled down a couple floors and stopped, the doors sliding open. This floor was rather empty. I snuck by the occasional doctor, but it seemed that most of the guards had gone to the floor above, looking for me. I made it to the file room without further incident.

It was on the corner of the building so two walls were made up of windows overlooking the scenery below. The wall that connected to the hallway was also glass, as was the door. Long desks or tables were arranged in rows down the center of the room, each one with about ten computers set up along its length. I slipped inside, making a mental note to myself to stay below desk level to keep out of sight from anyone in the hallway.

I didn't have to hunt for a computer this time. The first one I checked was ready to go and I quickly began searching the many folders and directories for information. I eventually found a list of patients located in the building and scrolled through until I found my picture. It seemed to have been taken rather recently. My head looked newly shaved, and the bruises were still there, albeit a little fresher. Unfortunately, they didn't give a name, only an I.D. number and place of pick-up. According to the file, #173 (me) had been "procured" in Ontario at someplace called, site C.

I thought back to the snippet of conversation I had heard from the guards. They had said something about a base in Ottawa. Wasn't Ottawa in Ontario? I wasn't sure (obviously I hadn't been a geography major). I was about to close the current window and continue looking, when another, smaller window popped up on-screen. It consisted of two text fields and a "Reply" button, and the top field already held a message.

_"Who are you?"_ Now there was a difficult question. I wasn't sure what to do. I considered not messing with it in case it was one of the building's security personnel. But it didn't seem like it. The pop-up didn't really match the rest of the layout on the computer. Maybe it was someone from the outside, and if it was, maybe they could help me. Deciding to take the risk I typed in a reply.

_"Who are you? Security?"_ Not a terribly productive answer, but I wasn't quite ready to trust this person completely.

_"No. Hacked into system. Searching for someone."_ There was a pause after that and I began to think of a response. I was cut off, however, when the sender continued. _"Kim, is that you?"_ The message sounded a little hesitant, like they were trying not to get their hopes up. I took a moment to concentrate, trying to decide if I felt like a, "Kim". I continued to pull a blank, though, so I sent back the only answer I could.

_"I don't know."_ The person seemed to be perplexed by my message, since there was a lengthy pause in which nothing was sent back. I took the opportunity to elaborate. _"Just woke up here. Can't remember anything."_ I hit the reply button and sat back to wait for his answer.

_"Are you safe?"_

_ "No. Guards searching for me. Can you help?"_

_ "Don't know much about it."_ My heart sunk upon reading the words. I had so hoped that whoever this was knew what was going on and what I could do. Though, as he continued, it seemed hope was not lost altogether. _"But I know someone who might. I'll send you the location."_

A loading bar appeared on the screen. Someone who MIGHT know about this place? What did that mean? I sat back and waited for the bar to fill, pondering the conversation. My thoughts were suddenly cut short by a hand on my neck. I was hauled to my feet, spun around, and slammed face first into the wall. I tried to push away, but the guy kept his arm pressed into the back of my neck, using his own weight to crush me between him and the wall.

"Well, well," he chuckled in my ear, "looks like it's my lucky day. Thought I got the b.s. work when they sent me to search this floor. Now all those other idiots are up searching the floor above and you drop right into my lap." He suddenly spun me around, slamming by back into the wall and pressing his forearm into my throat, leaving me barely able to breathe. "I'd love to see the looks on their faces when I radio in and tell them I found you." However, as he raised the walkie talkie to his mouth, he abruptly seemed to change his mind.

"Before I do, though," he said, his grin suddenly growing even more dangerous, "I think some R 'n' R is called for." His eyes scrutinized me closely and I found myself starting to panic, trying to squirm away from him. "Looks like someone gave you a real goin' over," he stated, examining my bruises and wounds. "But you're still not that bad lookin'. I think me and you'll have a little fun before I turn you back over to the docs."

"No..." It was nothing more than a croak. My hands pushed futilely at his arm as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to erase the image of his smile from my mind. The buzzing at the base of my skull seemed to increase as the fear rose in my gut. I felt his free hand travel down my side. "No," it was louder this time, the terror in the pit of my stomach reaching a peak as his hand gripped the waist band of my flimsy hospital pants. "NO... DON'T TOUCH ME!!!!"

My desperate scream seemed to act as a cue. The buzzing suddenly lanced forward, slamming into and through the front of my skull. I felt, more than saw, the guard abruptly lifted from the ground and tossed through the air. He screamed as he hit the window, the glass breaking against his back, inflicting small scratches as he flew threw it. I wasn't sure how high up the office was, but it seemed to be high enough as the guard's cries faded into the wind.

I slowly let myself slide down the wall, my eyes fixed on the window the man had been thrown through. For awhile all I could do was sit there. The lingering terror of what had almost happened to me was mixing with the utter confusion over how I had escaped. I'm not sure how much time passed, but a ping from the computer suddenly snapped me back to reality.

The sound had indicated the completion of the download. I crawled over to the machine, my hands still shaking as I moved the mouse to click on the "Play" button. A video sprang to life. It looked like a news program. An anchor woman was speaking with a picture of a blonde young man in the corner of the screen.

"It was early morning on Wednesday the fifteenth, when police arrested the young man responsible for the deaths of three residents of Ontario. The three victims were all CEOs in the Northern Drug Corporation, a major medical company in Canada. The police have released this statement." The picture switched to the same blonde man being carried away in a straight jacket by several police officers and then to an older man in a dress uniform speaking in front of a crowd of reporters.

"We have apprehended the perpetrator. Fingerprints and DNA samples recovered from the scenes, along with the young man's own statements prove he is the one we're looking for." A reporter shouted a question over the general hum of voices, asking what the motive was. "We have yet to determine the exact motive. The suspect is currently being examined for mental instability." The image returned to the anchor.

"Police doctors say that the suspect, Ronald Stoppable, displayed signs of paranoia and even schizophrenia. When questioned by police he apparently gave jumbled stories of conspiracies and cover-ups. He is currently being held in the Indiana Institute for the Criminally Insane, pending a full evaluation." The video abruptly cut off.

_"All I know is that Ron was part of a team investigating something about the Northern Drug Corporation. Ron was the only member of that team recovered alive." _I had to read the message twice before it registered properly. This whole situation just seemed to get worse and worse. _"Five of the team was found dead near Ron. The other three are still missing." _I could tell by the use of the shortened first name that whoever this was on the computer was a close friend of "Ron's".

_"And 'Kim' was one of the missing?" _I typed back. I put a question mark on it, but I could already guess the answer.

_"Yes."_

_ "And this, Ron, might know what happened."_ I'm not sure why I bothered typing that last elementary statement. Maybe to try and convince myself that it didn't sound as stupid as I thought it did. It didn't help. I was going to try and bust out a homicidal psychopath to help me find the secrets of a Canadian medical company. My head hurt.

_"Afraid I can't help much from here. If you can get to Ron, he should be able to help."_ I could hardly keep myself from throwing up right there. I had just escaped being raped by a sadistic security guard, and now I was supposed to trust a faceless hacker and an insane murderer. It was a terrible plan, but I had to face the fact that it was also my only option. I couldn't stay here forever, and if this "Ron" could help me unravel this mess, I would just have to chance it.

_"Okay. Indiana it is."_

_ "Head for the Jean-Paul LeBeau airfield. Tell them Wade sent you. They should be able to get you to Indiana." _I typed a quick thanks and looked up the map of the building again. Finding the exits, I headed back towards the elevator. I was stopped by the sound of booted feet hurrying down the corridor towards my location. Lots of booted feet.

Cut off from the elevator, I ran the opposite way. My forced flight made me an easy target for the security cameras, and soon the PA system was announcing my location again. A guard suddenly burst through a door ahead of me, cutting me off. Turning sharply I ran through the first door on my right, dashing up the stairs inside.

"Escaped patient now in roof access stairwell #3. Apprehend." Great. Roof access. In my panic I had blindly rushed forward and had now trapped myself on the roof, where there would be no escaping from the building's guards that I could already hear close behind me.

I ran through the stairwell door onto the roof, my labored breaths misting in the cold air. Snow fell in a heavy shower from the overcast sky. I ran over to what looked like a satellite tower and ducked behind it. I heard the door I had come through slam open as the security guards burst through. I heard one of them order the others to fan out and search the roof.

When I thought no one was looking, I darted behind a raised skylight, trying to stay ahead of their search. There was a noise mixing in with the wind, a dull roar. I crawled over to another stairwell door, (locked, damn) and peered around the corner. I had to squint my eyes against the sudden violent wind, but could still make out the black helicopter in front of me.

A sound to my right made me turn as a guard came walking around the corner. I scurried to the other side of the stairwell entrance before he could see me. The security was getting closer and I couldn't seem to see anyway off the roof. A metallic bang signaled the opening of a door near the helicopter. Four people walked out onto the roof, two staying by the open door and the other two walking towards the waiting aircraft.

The swirling snow made it hard to see, but the two by the door looked like more guards. One of the two walking towards the plane seemed to me dressed differently from the others. They boarded the helicopter and the machine began to lift off. I caught the sound of another guard on the other side of the stairwell. I was about to be boxed in.

Maybe it was panic at being caught or maybe it was simply brain damage from my time in the "hospital", but whatever the reason, I suddenly found myself standing up and running towards the hovering aircraft. It tilted slightly towards the edge of the roof as I got near. I heard shouts from behind me, but I didn't bother to turn around. I ran straight to the edge of the roof and jumped, managing to catch one of the helicopter's runners.

Looking back on it now, I can't believe I did it. All I can chalk it up to is temporary insanity. The wind whipped past me, stinging any exposed skin like a million tiny needles. I thought I heard the pilot or the passengers yelling something, but I couldn't hear. All I could hear was the deafening roar of the wind and the motor. All I could see was the snowy landscape far below us.

I think they saw me, for the helicopter suddenly slowed and began descending towards the ground. The ice on the runner began melting under my hand. My fingers and toes were numb and it was working its way up my arms and legs. My hands slipped even more as the cold numbness of my hands began to turn into a horrible burning. My head started to spin, maybe from the pain in my arms or from the height. The helicopter had started to descend for a landing, but it wasn't fast enough. Still hovering above tree level, my hands finally gave out and I fell into the whirling clouds of snow.

_To be continued..._

_Argh!! I swore that my next story wouldn't be another Kim Possible one. Heck, I don't even watch the show (my siblings do). I had other stories I was planning. A Sonic the Hedgehog, a Farscape, and a couple others. But this idea just popped into my head and I just HAD to write it. I now have two stories going at once. Hopefully this doesn't prove disastrous. Anyway, please review the heck outta this piece a' crap. It helps to fill my empty existence._


	2. Brain Glow

_I don't own any of this stuff. If I did the show would be a lot different. Less meaningful conversations and moral lessons; much more gratuitous violence. Violence is fun._

****

**Prodigy**

Chapter 2 - Brain Glow

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

_ I often find it hard not to believe in a higher being. Whether it be the Catholic God or some other supreme deity. I have studied much in my life, and I have never ceased to be amazed at the way nature works. Most people regard science and religion as being polar opposites. I do not believe this. After all, if a god created this world, would he or she not have also created science? And if they created science, would he not use it?_

_ Miracles are disregarded as soon as a scientific explanation is found for them, for people are convinced that a true miracle is something that can't possibly be explained. I like to think that the real miracle isn't necessarily the act itself, but the coincidence that the forces of nature just happened to occur in just the right way to make it happen. For if God created the universe, why would he or she not use his own creation to perform her works._

_ I was reminded of this today. The day when I isolated the "broadcast frequency" of the mind. I was looking at an MRI scan of the brain, the orange and red spots showing activity, the blue ones showing the opposite. The idea of temperature suddenly entered my mind. I had the technicians adjust the prototype MRI machine to factor in different temperatures when scanning for the mind. The results were as immediate as they were breath-taking._

_ It wasn't perfect of course, we had to adjust the electrical frequency several times to get a clear scan, but we had found the key. The first clear scan we made looked remarkably like the normal brain, except that the creases in it were not nearly as pronounced; almost non-existent. The color of the scan was also different. Instead of the oranges and blues of the regular MRI scan, this image was a solid, dull blue. Multiple images showed flashes of bright blue electrical energy shooting randomly through the blue mass._

_ After these initial tests, my curiosity went wild. I arranged for scans of as many different mind types as possible. Men, women, children, geniuses, school drop-outs, down-syndrome sufferers; anyone I could get to agree to the scan. But the big surprise came when I scanned one Marcus Conrad. At first I thought the equipment had malfunctioned, but after checking it seemed to be working fine. The scan of Mr. Conrad's mind was the same shape as all the others, but the color, instead of dull blue, was a deep, luminescent, light blue._

_ When looking through Mr. Conrad's profile for what might be the cause of this difference, I could only find one unique quality. Mr. Conrad was a practicing psychic. He ran a small business out of his home and had even aided some police investigations. I tested several other reported psychics and mystics. Over 75 had the strange glow to their scans._

_ Scientifically I knew what the glow was. Presumably the heightened activity in the mind due to the psychic gifts, caused increased electrical force in the brain and mind. This build up of energy caused the luminous effect. However, the coincidence that such a spectacular and haunting appearance was limited to minds possessing such special abilities seemed to be significant. And once again I found myself wondering if it was some inside joke by a higher power._

As my hands slipped from the helicopter's runners, I found myself starring upward in a bit of a daze. Was this really how it would happen? Did these situations really end like this? My worst case scenario would have been capture by whoever had me in the first place or at least shot while running from them. But this; falling to my death without a single revelation, seemed dumb, useless.

My thoughts were interrupted when I hit the first branches on the trees. The smaller twigs clawed at my face and snapped underneath me. I caught a glancing blow from a larger branch that sent me spinning to the side. My side stung as I hit another group of branches and my breath was knocked out of me when I caught one of the main ones directly in my gut.

I finally broke through the last layer of branches and dropped into the thick covering of snow beneath. I stayed were I fell. Every inch of me seemed to be in pain and my vision swam sickeningly. The sound of the helicopter drawing closer registered dimly in my mind, but I couldn't summon up enough consciousness to do anything. Strong winds starting whipping around me, covering me in swirling snow, as the aircraft descended a short distance away to land.

I could hear the crunch of boots in snow and soon two people stood over me, their faces blurry and distorted.

"It's 173," one of them said. Their voices seemed to drift to me from a great distance. I heard the words, but my brain was too fuzzy to put any meaning to them.

"That's the one that escaped, right? They were announcing it over the speakers just before we left." There was a crackling sound and one of them reached to his belt, retrieving something and holding it to his ear.

"What is it?" the first figure asked.

"The base," the other replied, gesturing distractedly towards the building. "Said to bring her back now. Looks like our trips gonna be delayed slightly."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't let that happen," the first speaker reached into his coat, pulling something out and drawing a surprised shout from his companion. I heard a small explosion and the second figure fell from view as something warm and wet splattered across my face. I blinked, still too disoriented to register anything that was going on around me.

"Well, my dear," the remaining figure kneeled, leaning down closer to me, "I probably shouldn't risk moving you after that fall, but we don't have much choice at the moment." I felt an arm slipping underneath me and another pulling me upward. The movement sent pain lancing through my entire body and I mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.

Images began to swim before my closed eyes. Where they memories or just a dream? I was in a room full of people. They were dressed in military or SWAT uniforms, I wasn't sure which. All their eyes were fixed on me, watching me with what looked like pity. I put my hands to my face and felt moisture there. I was crying. What had happened, why was I crying? I couldn't remember.

Then I was sitting at a long table with another group of soldiers. One man stood at the head of the table, talking and motioning at a slide show playing behind him. There was something about that guy. I seemed to remember his head leaning down next to mine, his hand wrapped around my arm, holding it up, his brown skin contrasting with my whiter skin. I could see his bald head and thin beard out of the corner of my eye. He was instructing me to look down the length of my arm. I had something in my hand.

A gun. He was teaching me how to fire a gun. But why? There was also an overwhelming feeling of loss. But loss of what; I couldn't say. The images suddenly exploded into a nightmare of gunfire. Bodies fell to the earth all around me, there was red everywhere; blood everywhere. I felt it soaking through my shoes into my socks. It stained the bottom of my feet and began working its way up. As it reached my chest my lungs grew cold and seized up. I couldn't breathe. The redness kept moving up my neck, over my jaw and up the back of my head. As it closed over my face, my eyes suddenly flew open and I sat up in bed.

I looked around the room, panicking a little when I noticed I didn't have any clothes on. The large fuzzy blanket that had been covering me had fallen off when I sat up and the slightly chilly air sent a shiver through my body. I pulled the blanket tightly around myself. I could still feel a slight ache in my fingers and toes from my time dangling outside the helicopter. The bandages around my stomach had been removed and I could see the mess of stitches that seemed to hold it shut. The skin around them was still red and irritated, and my sudden movement from the bed had torn a couple letting a few drops of blood ooze out of the wound.

The room was rather small and sparsely furnished. Two sad looking beds stood parallel to each other (one of which, I was in) and an out of date TV sat on a stand before them. Other than that, there were a couple ratty armchairs, a tiny closet, and a door I assumed led to an equally little bathroom. The wallpaper was yellowed with age and the shag carpet was a dull, vomit-green. My clothes were draped over a rusty radiator and a mess of soiled bandages lay on the bedside table.

Some of my bandages DID seem to have been changed. The thought suddenly struck me that this must be why the wrappings on my stomach were gone and, if that was the case, someone was probably in the room with me. This revelation coincided with a creak from the bathroom door. The man who came through the door was huge. He was easily close to seven feet tall and was as big-boned as you could get. The strange thing was that the intimidation caused by his size was contradicted by everything else about him.

He had to be close to sixty years old and his gray beard and receding hairline made him look like some kindly grandparent from a Norman Rockwell painting. The small pair of glasses perched on his nose looked almost comical on his huge form. He wore a dark red sweater that came down over a slightly pudgy middle that told of someone not very familiar with strenuous physical activity. A pair of worn brown corduroys and brown shoes completed the look. All-in-all, he looked very much like a stereotypical "computer geek", but a geek who could probably snap me in half if he really tried.

At the moment, however, his hands seemed to be geared toward more humane activities, if the roll of gauze and bottles of antiseptic were any indication. The look of concern on his face also seemed to be genuine, but the fact that I was naked and alone with him kept me on edge. For a minute he seemed to be at a loss for words, but finally spoke, easing towards me slowly, as if sensing my apprehension.

"You're awake," he said, surprised and maybe a little relieved. His voice was deep and gravelly with a thick Russian accent. He hesitated a little after his first statement, as if unsure how to proceed, but then shook his head a little and continued. "I'm sorry about undressing you, but your clothes were soaked through and I had to remove them before you caught pneumonia." He gave a small, lopsided smile, looking extremely embarrassed. "If it's any consolation, I AM a doctor and was very professional about it." I was surprised when I almost smiled at the statement.

I opened my mouth to try and ask him a question, but found that my brain couldn't seem to decide which one to ask first. My hands shook as I clutched the blanket and made a couple of incoherent noises in my throat. The man seemed to see my panic, and held up a hand to calm me.

"I'm sure you have many questions," he said, soothingly, "and I will explain, but I would like to re-bandage your abdomen while I do so." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my okay before trying to approach. I finally nodded a little and moved the blanket to around my waist, snatching a pillow and clutching it defensively to my chest. Smiling reassuredly, he pulled one of the chairs to the bedside and sat down, beginning to dab at the torn stitches with the antiseptic.

"My name," he began, his eyes never leaving his work, "is Domovoi Troskey. I work... I worked at the Montreal offices of the Northern Drug Corporation. That was the building you were being... held... in." He seemed to force the last part out, as if he were telling himself as much as me. However, the news that he was connected with the people in that building had set me on edge. I began to wonder if my previous feeling of relief was ill placed.

"You worked there?" I accented the middle word, hoping that his use of the past tense indicated something in my favor. He seemed to sense my sudden nervousness, for he continued rather quickly.

"Yes, I sort of... resigned," he finished applying the antiseptic to my middle and began wrapping fresh gauze around the healing wound. "I was in the helicopter you 'escaped' on. They radioed orders to land and bring you back, but you fell before we reached the ground. Once we reached you I realized that this was probably the only opportunity I would have to get you out of there. I... I shot the pilot and carried you to a nearby road. I was able to get a trucker to stop and give us a lift into town and to this motel."

I could hear the catch in his voice as he confessed to killing the pilot. The guilt at the act still seemed to be fresh in his mind. Still, my trepidation did not disappear entirely. Dr. Troskey was turning out to be a little too perfect. The saying "too good to be true" kept popping into my head. I sat quietly for awhile, waiting until he had finished wrapping my stomach with gauze before giving voice to my doubts.

"Why did you help me?" I was grateful to the guy, but why he would choose to make himself a target by helping one of these people's lab rats escape wasn't clear. He sighed heavily, sitting back in the chair. He suddenly looked very old.

"When I first started working for the NDC I firmly believed that they were committed to research that was for the benefit of all. And at first, all the projects I worked on WERE benevolent. It wasn't until later that I began to see signs of illegal activities and... unorthodox testing. I was aware of your situation, and seeing you lying there in the snow...," his voice caught for an instance, as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say. "I couldn't let you be taken back to that."

I was a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. So much so, that I started feeling bad for ever doubting him. Left almost speechless, I was barely able to whisper a hesitant "thank you". His face, however, did not convey any pleasure at my thanks, in fact he looked even more upset.

"Do not thank me," he whispered, a little hoarsely, "not after... everything I've done to you." My heart dropped into my feet. Was this it? The part were he revealed he was still working for these people and was going to take me back to the white rooms and metal tables? He slowly pushed himself from the chair and took a seat on the other bed, folding his hands in front of him.

"I finished in the top of my class at the university," he finally began, "fifth in the top ten, if I remember correctly. My area of expertise was the brain. It seemed a given that I would become a wealthy surgeon with my pick of what hospital to work in. This, however, did not prove to be the case." He paused, taking off his glasses and letting them hang around his neck from the small chain that joined the earpieces.

"I was a bit of a black sheep among my colleagues. I was interested in things not readily accepted by the down-to-earth majority of the scientific community. Religion, mysticism, parapsychology, crypto zoology; things of that nature. I was working at the Saint Giovanni Hospital and Emergency Room when I began working on a particular theory. I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say I believed that the brain and the mind were separate instruments. I began to work extensively on proving my theory, to the point that the hospital administration ordered me to stop; told me that my obsession was turning them into a laughing stock."

Troskey was unable to hide the note of bitterness that crept into his voice at that point. He quickly recovered his composure and continued his story in the same scholarly tone that kept making me feel like I should have been taking notes.

"When I wouldn't stop they fired me. After that, work was hard to come by. A doctor who is fired from his job is immediately seen as a risk. They could lose patients and any lawsuit brought against the hospital would be that much easier to win, because the circumstances of my dismissal would be irrelevant. Just the fact that I WAS dismissed would be damaging enough. That was when the NDC contacted me."

Getting up from the bed he began throwing away my old bandages and went to check on my clothes, still speaking as he did so.

"They offered me full funding for my research and a ready made laboratory. All I had to do was lend my expertise to some of their projects." Finding my clothes dry he tossed them to me, pausing to sigh a little. "Looking back on it now, I realize I should have been more suspicious, but I was so intent on continuing with my theories that I didn't use my head. By the time I realized something more sinister was going on, I was already involved too deeply."

Troskey's story was suddenly interrupted by a loud growl from my stomach. The sound brought a deep chuckle from the doctor and I found even the corners of my mouth turning up a little in a sheepish smile. Walking over he patted my shoulder in a gentle manner, smiling in a way that seemed fatherly; that is if I had any memory of any fathers.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Here I am boring you with my life story while you are starving to death. Forgive an old man his ramblings, I lose myself too easily in memories of the past. Take a moment to dress and I will bring back something to eat." Giving my shoulder another small pat, he then exited through the door, closing and locking it behind him.

Throwing off the blanket I shivered a little at the chill, pulling on my clothes quickly. Not that the undershirt I had woken up in did much to keep me warm, but at least I wasn't naked anymore. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders I headed off towards the other door. After a quick use of the toilet I began looking around the small room. The doctor's coat had been left hanging on a chair by the bed. Still feeling a little paranoid, I rummaged through the pockets. The inside pocket held the dead weight of a handgun while the other pockets contained an eyeglass case, a few crumpled papers with notes written on them, and a medicine bottle full of some clear liquid.

There had been a rather large backpack in the bathroom stuffed full of equipment, probably taken from the helicopter. There was also a silver ring lying by the sink. The sides were engraved with a symbol of two snakes wrapped around each other and at the top was a black stone with something blue in the center. Holding it up to the light I could make out a ghostly image of a brain. It looked like a shrunken down x-ray or something, but was a glowing blue color.

Hearing the door open in the other room I returned the ring to its place and walked out of the bathroom. Dr. Troskey was just coming in with a couple Styrofoam boxes and a battered looking duffel bag over one shoulder. Giving me a little smile, he took the lamp off the nightstand and set out the boxes and some plastic forks. We each sat on one of the beds, eating in comfortable silence.

The meal was much the same as the room; not pretty, but adequate. There was a lump of mashed potatoes, some slightly brownish corn, a strip of processed chicken, and watery brown gravy that had been dumped on the potatoes and oozed around everything else. The mediocrity of the food was lost on me, however, as I eagerly ate every bite. I hadn't had much time to think since I had woken up and now that I had a moment's peace, I found I was starved.

Troskey had also brought a couple sodas, probably bought from a vending machine outside, and I cracked open mine. Sitting back a little as I washed down my food I looked over at the doctor as he ate. It had been kind of hard to picture the huge man as a surgeon, but watching his hands move carefully, yet purposefully even in the simple act of eating, it was easy to see. I was silent while he finished eating, frowning a little as I went over what he had said before.

"What did you mean," I finally asked as he put down his fork, "about what you've done to me?" The sentence had been rattling around my head ever since he said it and I was dying to know the rest of the story. That pained look appeared on his face again and he ran a hand over his beard before speaking.

"I told you that I believed the mind and brain to be separate organs," he began cleaning up the food as he went, I got up to help him. "And that the NDC had offered me funds to prove my theory. Well, I did it. I modified an MRI machine and scanned energy signatures from the mind," the slight hint of pride in his voice was easy to catch. "After that I was eager to learn everything I could from the scans. I soon found that many people who claimed to have paranormal abilities had a unique glowing aura to their scans." My mind snapped back to the image on the ring.

"Soon I began experimenting to see if I could manipulate the mind's energy," the pride in the doctor's voice was gone now, replaced by a slight hint of guilt. "I found that some minds with a certain electrical signature were receptive to attempts at heightening their energy output. I developed an enzyme that, when injected into different parts of the brain, could produce telepathic and telekinetic abilities in the subject for a short time."

"It was around this time that the company actually became interested in my research. Up until then I had done some DNA splicing experiments for them and only worked on MY experiments in my free time. But once I had successfully tested the drug, the executive members offered me an entire laboratory and research staff to help in my work. I perfected a formula, but was hesitant to test it. The previous drug's effects were temporary. This new version was designed to fully unleash any psychic abilities the subject might have, permanently."

"The company chairmen assured me that they would find trustworthy volunteers." Troskey paused for a moment, running a hand through his white hair. "Their lies seem so obvious now, but I talked myself into believing them. They provided "volunteers", but I was never allowed to talk to any of them. By the time I had any contact with them, they were already under anesthesia and prepped for the procedure. I should have known something was wrong, but I was so intent on my work succeeding that I allowed myself to be fooled. When they brought me you, however, the evidence became too much for even ME to ignore."

Unconsciously, I leaned forward a little on the bed. I had begun to see where the doctor's story had been headed and I got the feeling that he was reaching the end. I had questions, of course, but I held them back for now. Better to get the whole story and then fill in any blanks later.

"It was obvious that something terrible had happened to you," Troskey continued, a slightly apologetic look on his face, "and there were definite signs of recent surgery also. Apart from some general scrapes and bruises, you had a couple fractured ribs, a slight concussion, several nasty gashes on your arms and legs, and two gunshot wounds in your abdomen. All had been recently worked on. Couldn't have been more than four hours ago. I refused at first, saying that your injuries made you too weak for the process. It wasn't long, however, before their steady insistence became rather subtle threats."

He was silent for a minute, hanging his head. Finally raising it back up, he continued. "I'm not a very brave man," he said sadly, "so I did the procedure out of fear. Afterwards I could tell they knew I no longer trusted them. You were taken to a different part of the building and I wasn't even allowed to check on your progress. I went on with the work they gave me, but I refused to do any more of my procedures and insisted on speaking to you and the other patients. It was almost two months before they finally realized I wasn't going to give up in my protests, so they said they'd arrange a session with the subjects at another location. I didn't really believe them, but I didn't have much choice in the matter. The helicopter you jumped on was actually taking me to the supposed location, though I had a feeling that a much different scenario was planned."

He left the statement hanging, but I could guess what he meant. I mentally reviewed what I now knew. Somehow I had become a test case for an operation that was supposed to give certain people psychic powers, which would explain what happened to the guard in the computer room. But I didn't feel like I had any powers. After all, if I could read minds I wouldn't have sat here for the last half hour listening to Troskey. Perhaps the procedure hadn't worked, could it have failed? One question out-shone any others, however.

"Do you know who I am? What my name is?" I looked at him hopefully, but no sooner had the words passed my lips, I could tell he didn't. A look of sorrow crossed his face and he shook his head sadly.

"I am sorry," he said quietly in his thick Russian accent, "but I was given no information to your background. I only knew you by your patient registry. Number 173." I looked at the floor, disappointment eating away at my insides. Silence descended on the room for what seemed like hours. I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was a blank.

"So," I finally said, softly, "what now?" Troskey looked up at me, suddenly seeming rather nervous.

"Well," he answered, twiddling his thumbs, "I actually had something to ask you." He paused, looking at me for an answer. When I showed no signs of resistance, he continued. "I'm sure the other patients are still being held in the building and seeing you, I can only imagine what they must still be going through. I am an old man and have never been much for physical exertion at all. I cannot save them on my own, but with you helping me, perhaps we could free them. I know I have done nothing but harm to you, but I am asking you, for their sakes, to help me."

I didn't have any definite memories of any movies I may have seen, but I did know that if this had been a movie, my response would have been a righteous "YES". But this was not a movie, and the feeling that spread through me was not to protect my fellow man, but of fear. I did NOT want to go back to that building, I didn't care WHO was being held there. Only my slight embarrassment at my callous feelings kept me from shouting out a definite "NO" at the doctor.

"Back to that building?" I asked weakly, instead. Troskey saw my discomfort and tried to smile understandingly.

"I realize it is too much to ask, but I cannot leave those poor souls in there. If you do help me, I promise to help you with anything you need afterwards." I felt like screaming that their might not be an afterwards, but refrained. I had to think about this logically. Apart from the message that hacker had given me, I had no idea what I was going to do. Troskey knew the country and could probably get me anywhere I had to go faster than I could alone. And also, the thought of his "procedure" kept recurring to me. If something came up with that, it would definitely be helpful to have the doctor along. I was beginning to feel like a rat in a trap. I really didn't have much of a choice.

"All right," I agreed, my shoulders slumping a little, "I'll help." Thankfully, Troskey didn't show any signs of happiness, the circumstances weren't suited for it. He simply smiled sadly and nodded. I looked out the window at the large snowflakes falling to the ground. The peaceful landscape was a stark contrast to the chaotic darkness that currently surrounded me. My relief upon escaping that building had brought a new sliver of hope, but now I was being pulled back. Would I be able to escape again, and even if I did, would I then ever find out who I was? A sense of dread sunk deeper into my bones, chilling me more than the icy wind that howled outside the window.

_To be continued..._

_Whew, lots of talking this chapter, but that's the price you pay for character development. More action in the next chapter when they return to the building._

**_Dragon Blade5_**_ - Thanks for the words of encouragement. They always help._

**_YoukaiLover80_**_ - Great? Maybe not. But I try. And while I don't watch Kim Possible (and truthfully, the slang makes me want to tear my ears off), I try to treat every show I see with respect. (Except reality shows) Kim Possible may not be my particular cup o' tea, but it's still a good show._

**_eckles_**_ - "Intriguing" is good._

**_Jezrianna_**_ - Still haven't seen Resident Evil, though I want to. I loved Milla Jovovich (sp?) in the Fifth Element. As for the protagonist's identity, I'm going to keep that foggy for a few more chapters._

**_Yamal_**_ - Glad to see my last stories didn't drive you off. Thanks for the praise, I'm really excited about this story and I hope it turns out as good as I imagined it. Just about everything is better in my head than it is on paper._


	3. Lateral Thinking

_Do I need to put a disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter, or is one on the first chapter enough? Oh well, better to be on the safe side. I don't own Kim Possible or any other shows, movies, and/or book properties. There. Thanks for rubbing it in, stink monkeys._

**Prodigy**

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Chapter 3 - Lateral Thinking

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

****_My father used to say that I was headed for great things. He told me that great potential could be seen if you knew how to look for it. My latest discovery brought his words back to me. While looking at scans of the phenomena I referred to as "__мысль_ _светлый", __or as my research team called it, "brain glow", I found that some subjects had this glow to their scans yet showed no signs of paranormal abilities. I began to wonder if this was a sign of "psychic potential". Perhaps these individuals had the means, but had not developed the ability to use their heightened energy._

_ Tests on mammals, mainly rabbits and chimpanzee, had shown that some chemicals could increase the energy output of the mind for a short while. I soon developed the chemical "protophymal" which could unlock a subject's abilities for a short time. I submitted my findings to the company as I always do and, to my surprise, I received an almost immediate reply. The executives seem to have finally taken an interest in my work and have offered me additional help and a new laboratory._

_ They are not sending me as much work as they used to and the majority of my time is now spent working on a more powerful form of protophymal that will permanently activate the abilities of any subject with psychic potential. I tried to combine the previous drug with a synthesized version of dydroxilate, but the results were unsatisfactory at best and disastrous at worst. I think that adding on to the chemical structure of protophymal would be more reliable than trying to combine it with an existing mixture._

_ The work is slow and complicated. I can't count the number of nights I've sat amidst my notes and despaired at ever finding the solution, but the image of my father would always come to me. He was not an overly affectionate man, at least not in physical actions, but he worked hard for his family and always had a kind word for his son._

_ Growing up in Russia back then, the biggest, and often only, jobs were either in military service or the mines. My father worked in the mines. He would tell me how he would look at the rock and it would tell him where to dig; where the potential was. "The same is true of people, Domovoi," he would tell me. My father saw potential in me and I only hope to one day prove worthy of that praise._

We didn't leave immediately for the NDC building. Dr. Troskey fussed about my injuries a little more and insisted that we both needed a good nights sleep.

"They will be checking all the airports and bus stations," was how he put it, "they will never think to look anywhere in town."

I tried to be a little angry with him for his role in my current situation, but he was such a flustered, grandfatherly type of guy I just couldn't seem to do it. So, we each took a bed and settled back for the night. Troskey was asleep pretty quick; all this excitement had probably worn the elderly scientist out. I laid awake for awhile, thinking about this foolish (in my opinion) rescue mission Troskey was insisting on. He had assured me that he had a full proof plan on how to get in and out of the building quickly and quietly, but plans are only full proof on paper. Once you actually start to carry them out, things always get messy.

I wasn't sure where I got this opinion from, but it seemed to be a pretty strong one. I eventually dozed off into a sleep that, while restful, was far from dreamless. I saw the table full of soldiers again, the man at the front frowned sternly at me, a woman on the right side had a small, knowing smile, and the two sitting beside me seemed familiar, as if I knew them, but I couldn't make out their faces. Then I was in a house (my house?), and it was burning. I was choking on thick, black smoke as I desperately tried to pull something out of the flames. No, not something. Someone. It was a person, a woman I think.

I woke up to an overwhelming sense of despair and the image of a face. A long, thin face with a slightly receding hairline and small, dark eyes. The memory of those eyes sent a chill down my spine. They were a dark brown, almost black, and they seemed to glitter with a cold intensity, like they were made of ice or something. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as that face flashed across my mind again and again, until the sound of Dr. Troskey entering with breakfast interrupted my thoughts.

We ate in silence, each of us mulling over what we were about to do. Troskey's motivation was obvious; redemption. He was obviously a very idealistic type of guy who placed a heavy emphasis on morals, and the memories of what he'd done (albeit unknowingly) still filled him with guilt. As for me, the motivation was a lot simpler. I was going along out of desperation. The hacker named Wade had given me the name of an airstrip, but I didn't know where it was or where I was for that matter. Troskey had lived here and could probably find the place faster than I could. He needed me to help him rescue the other patients and I needed him to help me get out of Canada and find this Ronald Stoppable, who Wade says might have some answers for me.

As we finished eating, Troskey started getting everything together, pulling out the bag he had taken from the helicopter and throwing me a hooded jacket he found inside. A question I had thought of last night suddenly came back to me while he rooted through the equipment.

"Hey, Doc," I asked, hesitantly. Troskey looked over his shoulder at me, a look of mild surprise on his face, either from the abrupt question or from the rather silly nickname. "I was just wondering.... this drug I was given; could it have something to do with me not remembering anything?" Troskey pulled a couple more things out of the bag, standing up and putting them on the bed before answering.

"Yes, I think that's a very real possibility. In fact, I'd stake my life on it." That was all the answer I needed, but the scientist in Troskey had already kicked in. "After the first few successful tests of my chemical, I'm afraid the company began experimenting with the formula themselves. My drug causes a rather large surge of electric energy in the brain, but I was very careful to keep it within safe levels. Knowing those idiots, they probably tried to make it more powerful. I was kept in the dark about most things, but I heard rumors that they were trying another drug on you. If they made it too strong, the resulting surge in energy could very well cause some neural pathways to short-circuit, as it were. That was one of the main reasons I resolved to arrange your escape."

"Arrange my escape?" I was suddenly confused. I thought my escape had been a mistake, and being found by Dr. Troskey nothing more than coincidence. Troskey, for his part, was looking rather embarrassed.

"Oh dear, did I forget to tell you that part?" He scratched his beard nervously as he tried to remember what he had left out of his story. "Well, you see, I was rather worried about them testing some new drug on you, so I decided to try and organize your escape. It wasn't a very good plan and it didn't turn out quite as I pictured it, but still.... " he paused, seeming to realize he was starting to ramble. "Anyway," he continued after sighing, "the prescriptions for each patient are stored in the same room. I found your tray of anesthetics and slipped in something else."

"What?"

"It's called, domozyl. It causes a build up in energy in the mind. In a normal person it would result in a severe headache, fainting, and temporary paralysis. In someone with brain glow, it causes what my team dubbed a "short". Energy builds up in the mind until it has nowhere else to go and causes a short circuit, resulting in a sudden, and rather violent, release of psychic energy. The short would neutralize any sedatives in your system, and I hoped that it would cause enough confusion to allow you to slip away." He gave a little shrug. Not all plans worked out the way you pictured them.

"Domozyl," the name sounded familiar to me, "is that what's in the bottle in your coat pocket." I looked down, embarrassed when I realized I had just admitted to searching through his stuff. If the Doc was upset or angry, he didn't show it.

"Yes, it is," he stated, smiling gently at me. He went back to sorting through the bag for awhile before standing up and indicating that we were ready to go. Indicating what he wanted to take with us, he asked me to pack it all into one bag while he walked into town to rent a car. "I want to leave that for last," he explained, "in case they might be waiting for me to use a credit card."

After I had loaded all the equipment into the large black bag and set it by the door, I sat back in one of the chairs and tried to calm the nervous churning of my stomach. I tried to reassure myself that trying to rescue the other patients was not suicide. I mean, Troskey was a pretty smart guy, surely this plan was well thought out. Still, a voice in my head reminded me, his last plan hadn't exactly worked out how he meant it to. The old man seemed certain that it would work if I helped him, though I really didn't know why. Maybe it was these psychic abilities he claimed I had been given.

Was he sure I had them? After all, he said himself that he wasn't allowed to see me after the procedure. Maybe it didn't take and I had no special gifts at all. But then there was that incident with the guard (a small shutter still runs down my spine when I think of it), perhaps Troskey's drug DID have an effect on me. Looking around the room my eyes fell on a glass ashtray sitting on the television stand. I had no idea how to go about it, but decided to give it a try anyway.

I turned the chair so I was facing the ashtray and leaned forward, staring at it intensely. Scrunching my face in concentration, I tried to think only of moving the glass object. Nothing happened. I tried again, thinking back to the time with the guard, and trying to remember how I felt when he had been thrown through the window. There was a single-mindedness about it, I had screamed at him to go away, and somehow my mind had answered. I narrowed my eyes at the ashtray, called up all the determination I could, and ordered it to move.

My eyes went wide as the glass dish suddenly slid across the table and slammed into the wall. Okay, could use a little work on control, but I had definitely moved it. I sat, staring in wonder at the ashtray until the sound of the door brought me back to reality.

"I've got the car," Troskey called from the doorway, "are you ready?" Nodding my head, I got up and followed him out the door, turning briefly to glance back at the ashtray on the small table. Maybe there was something to what the Doc said after all. Throwing the bag in the back seat, Troskey started the car and we drove off while he explained his plan. The Doc knew that the security cameras in the building were on a different power grid than the lights and other stuff.

His plan involved two stops; one at the power station where we would cause an "accidental" power outage and take out the cameras, and another stop at a nearby drycleaners. It seems that the NDC building sent out its dirty guard uniforms, laboratory outfits, and patient's clothes to be cleaned every other day. Troskey intended me to get back into the building by hiding in one of the laundry bins. It seemed like a pretty good plan, but that didn't make me any less nervous. As we went past the back of the drycleaners we could see them wheeling the bins out to the loading dock where a truck waited.

"The two on the left are going to the NDC building," he said, pointing, "I will go around front and create a diversion so you can hide yourself in one of the bins." I nodded, not trusting my voice enough to speak, and opened the door to get out. I was stopped by Troskey's hand on my arm. "I am very grateful for this," he looked solemnly at me. "I know it is a selfish request on my part. Asking you to help right one of my own wrongs. Here," he handed me the handgun from his jacket, raising his hand to stop my protest. "I pray you will not need it, but keep it just in case. And take this with you," taking a thin chain from his pocket, he slipped off his ring and slid it onto the chain. "For luck." He smiled as I took it from his hand.

"Thank you," my voice was soft and hesitant. I stared at the small image of the glowing mind-scan on the top of the ring for a minute before slipping the chain around my neck and tucking it under my shirt. I slipped the gun into my jacket pocket, gave the Doc a final smile of farewell, and got out of the car. Troskey drove off towards the front of the building while I walked over towards the loading dock. After a minute or two both workers stopped and looked toward the front of the building. I heard one of them say something about a customer needing help as they walked through the back door.

Once they had gone I ran over and jumped into one of the bins, quickly burying myself in the clean clothes. Most of it looked like hospital clothing, and I took a second to be grateful I got to hide in clean ones and not dirty. It was only a couple of minutes before I heard footsteps on the concrete and felt the bin jostle as I was wheeled onto the ramp and into the waiting truck. The door was pulled down with a crash and I was left alone in the darkness.

I relaxed a little in the soft clothes, feeling the bumps and dips of the road, and going over everything Troskey had told me. The directions to the patients' rooms were memorized in my mind, the doctor may not have been allowed to see the subjects, but he had been able to find out where they were kept. My attention snapped back to the present when the truck started to slow down. There was a jerk as it shifted gears and reversed for a bit and another as it was put in park. I huddled down in the laundry again as the back door was thrown open and the bins were unloaded.

I heard more doors slam and then the truck was pulling away, the engine noise quickly fading away into the distance. I still heard muffled voices somewhere. Shifting around in the bin, I carefully peeked over the edge, ready to dive back down if I saw someone. The voices seemed to be coming from a nearby open door, but the room appeared to be empty. Slipping quickly out of the bin, I ran over and crouched by a nearby pillar, keeping it between me and the door, just in case someone walked out unexpectedly.

Troskey had told me to take the service stairs to the eighth floor and a quick glance around the room revealed the door. I ran as quietly as I could through the door and began climbing the stairs. After about the fifth flight I was wishing I could have taken the elevator instead. Upon reaching the door to the eighth floor, I took a second to catch my breath. Most of the floor was supposed to be used as patient rooms, though, apparently, only three were in residence at the moment. I stood on my toes to look through the small window in the door and, seeing no one, slipped through into the hallway.

I made my way past the many doors, looking for the place Troskey had told me about. Peeking around a corner I saw the hallway I was looking for. Unfortunately, a guard had decided to take a cigarette break right in front of it. Frustration flared in my gut as I looked for a way around him. My eyes suddenly caught sight of a door at the far end of the hall and an idea flashed into my head. Locking my gaze on the door, I narrowed my eyes at it, my forehead creasing in concentration. Biting my bottom lip absent mindedly, I pulled at the door with my eyes. I barely contained a hissed "yes" when the door seemed to open slightly on its own and then fall shut again.

"Monroe? That you?" The guard called out as he looked over toward the sound. As he turned and left to go check the noise, I scurried into the empty hallway. I was starting to feel a lot better than I had been. The plan had gone well so far; maybe I COULD pull it off. I reached the first of the doors the Doc had indicated were the right ones and pulled back the small panel near the top, revealing a little window. However, when I looked through into the room beyond, any hope that this plan would go off without a hitch quickly disappeared into thin air.

Apart from a small bed in the corner the room was empty. I quickly went to the other two rooms, but those were empty as well. I pulled out the scrap of paper I had written the room numbers on, checking to make sure I had the right ones. The numbers matched, but the supposed patients weren't there. Now I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go looking through the entire building for them. Who knows; they might have been taken to some other building somewhere. There was nothing I could do; I would just have to leave and tell the Doc I couldn't find them.

As I decided on my course of action, I was suddenly reminded why standing in the middle of a hallway while you're trying to be sneaky is not a good idea. A shout from my right brought my head up. It seemed my trick with the door had worked better than I'd thought. The guard must have been suspicious and called in for back-up. Now four guards were running down the hallway towards me. Panic began gnawing at my insides as I turned and ran the other way. I heard them shout at me to stop, but I kept going, turning down a corridor that ran along the side of the building. I was brought up short by a metal curtain shutting off the hall. Another passage was to my left, but was similarly blocked.

The guards were just coming around the corner when I felt the weight of the gun bump against my leg. I didn't stop to think. If I did, I probably wouldn't have been able to fire. Pulling the gun from my pocket I blindly squeezed off a few shots in their general direction. Pain shot through my wrists as the weapon recoiled violently. The shots were wild, ricocheting off the walls, but it was enough to make the guards stop and take cover. They immediately returned fire with much more professionally aimed shots. I fell to the side, scurrying behind the side of a soda machine, pressing myself against the wall. The thing didn't provide much protection and I couldn't hold back the small yelp of terror when bits of glass and plastic began exploding around me.

I huddled in the small corner made by the wall and the side of the vending machine, my arms up over my head as bullets tore away at everything around me. I could feel the tears in my eyes as I shook uncontrollably, my mind a whirlwind of fear and panic. Finally everything snapped and I couldn't take it anymore.

"ALL RIGHT, STOP, PLEASE, STOP IT!!!!" The fear in my voice was painfully obvious as I screamed my surrender, my voice quivering terribly. I heard someone yell to hold fire and the guns were suddenly silent.

"Drop the gun and move into the center of the hallway," one of the guards called to me. My hand shook as I held the gun out into their line of sight and dropped it on the floor. I pulled myself up from the ground, forcing my legs to move, and stepped fearfully into the center of the hallway.

"Hey, isn't that the lab rat who escaped," one of them asked. The other two agreed with him, but I wasn't really listening. The buzzing in my head had been gaining in strength the whole time and I could feel it creeping around my brain again. The feeling was strange and new; before I had tried to make it go away. This time, however, I let it go. I let it cover the inside of my head and work its way down my spine. My arms went to my sides, my hands curling into tight fists as every muscle seemed to tense. The guards began noticing that something was happening and began raising their weapons again, but it was too late. I felt something huge forcing its way out of every pore in my body and I let it go. The air rippled as it shot down the hallway. The windows along the right wall exploded outwards and the guards were sent flying down the corridor, their bodies contorting with the force of the blow.

I simply stood their for a minute, listening to the wind howl outside the blown out windows and feeling flakes of snow melt against my bare skin. Shakily, I reached down and retrieved Troskey's gun from the floor and returned it to my jacket pocket. I slowly tried to dissipate the panic that still filled my mind and find a way out of here.

_"Who are you?"_

I jumped at the voice, spinning around to see who was there. It had sounded like it was right behind me, but the hallway was empty.

_"How did you do that? Are you like us?"_

"Who's 'us'?" I asked back. For a second there was no reply and I began to wonder if I was going crazy. Maybe the experiments knocked something loose in my head.

_"You're looking for something.... looking for.... us."_

The words came haltingly, as if the speaker was figuring all this out as they spoke it. The voice was strange, having a kind of buzzing echo to it, but it sounded like a young girl. An idea suddenly popped into my head.

"Are you one of the patients here?" Once again there was a pause. I got the feeling that whoever this was didn't want to tell me too much, perhaps still unsure if I was a friend.

_"You are like us.... I'll show you where we are."_

I felt a tug towards the empty hallway, not really a physical feeling, more like someone poking at my brain. For all I knew this could have been a trap, but I was pretty lost at this point. If the voice hadn't shown up I might have just collapsed on the floor and waited for more guards to come. The tug suddenly stopped and pushed backward for a second.

_"Guards."_

Crouching out of sight I saw two men walk down the corridor in front of me. The tug came back and I began following it again. The feeling led me towards the elevator, stopping and redirecting me whenever any guards got too close. I took the elevator all the way down to the basement (almost right back where I started; figures) and was led to a metal door at the other end of the room. It had an electronic keypad lock, but the tug was right there, guiding my fingers to the right buttons. There was a beep and the heavy door swung open.

_"We're down here, in the last door. They shut the lights out. Hurry, I make the guard sleep."_

There were, indeed, only a couple small lights illuminating the corridor. I ran by the snoring guard as quietly as I could, making my way to the last door. There was another keypad lock, but just like before, I opened it with ease. As I slipped into the dark room I actually began letting myself hope that things were going to turn out alright after all. Those hopes quickly vanished when I was grabbed by the collar and slammed against the wall. Before I could react I was pinned and my gun had been pulled from my pocket and shoved in front of my face.

Memories of the guard in the computer room began flashing in my mind. My back against the wall, breath on my face, hands on me, on my sides, on my pants, pulling at my pants, touching....

The buzzing in my head flared up, pushing at the inside of my skull.

_"Calm. Stay calm."_

The voice drifted through my head again, calming the buzzing a little. My panic subsided a little and my eyes came into focus. A small light hung from the ceiling casting just enough light to see by. A boy with brown hair held me against the wall. He looked about my age though the dark expression on his face and the gun held in his hand made him look older. Behind him were two girls, one was probably a couple years older than me with long black hair that fell perfectly straight to the middle of her back. The other girl I would have guessed to be about 11 or 12. Her hair was a straight, pale blonde that came down to her jaw line. They all wore the same white outfits that had been in the bin I had hidden in.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The look in the guy's eyes was making me nervous and the shouted questions made my knees want to buckle, while the buzzing hummed dangerously in my head.

"I... someone.. led me here," I managed to stammer. For a second he looked confused. Then a look of annoyed realization flashed across his face.

"Greta...," he growled a little, casting a quick look over his shoulder at the small blonde girl.

"I like her, she's like us." The echo was gone, but I could still tell that the voice was the same one that had been in my head. The same shy, hesitant tone; the same heavy German accent.

"You don't know that...," the black haired girl jumped in. Her accent sounded African or something like that. Her dark skin blended into the shadows of the dim room, only the white clothes she wore kept her from becoming almost invisible.

"I do to," Greta interrupted. "I saw it." She pointed at her head, a defiant look on her face.

"Are you sure," the boy seemed to think about it, but kept the gun pointed at my head. When Greta nodded he sighed a little. "Okay, I'm going to ask you some questions. Greta, make sure she's telling us the truth." Despite her apparent faith in me, Greta nodded and began staring at me even more intently than she had been before.

"Are you like us?" His first question was a little vague, to me at least. If these were the patients I was looking for then he was probably referring to the drug that was supposed to give us psychic mojo.

"Yeah."

"How did you get out?"

"One of the doctors. He didn't agree with what they were doing, so he arranged my escape." He looked over to Greta to confirm my answer. The girl nodded.

"Okay, then why are you here?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"The doctor. He wanted to rescue the rest of you, so we came back." I thought I saw a flinch from Greta, but she remained silent. The boy's face had grown a little less hostile and his hold on me had lightened a little, though he still looked wary.

"Is all that true, Greta?" I could have sworn I saw a slight hesitation before she nodded, but no one else said anything so I let it pass. "All right," he continued, "but who are you? If you went through the same thing we did, why weren't you put with us? And what's with your head?" He was looking at the needle marks around my cranium. They were healing, but could still be seen here and there on my shaved head. I had noticed that none of them seemed to have had their heads shaved anytime soon and had wondered about that myself.

"The Doc said they were changing the drug... that they may have tried something different on me. Maybe even some new kind of procedure." The guy's face softened a little more, as if he was finally starting to believe me. He stared at me for a second or two before asking another question that immediately complicated everything.

"What's your name?" It caught me off guard and I wasn't sure what to say. The conversation with Wade entered my mind and I blurted out the first name that came to mind.

"... Kim." It was stupid, I know, but I just couldn't tell them that I had no idea who I was. The others seemed to miss my slight hesitation, but one look at Greta was enough to show that she hadn't.

"She's lying." All the pressure that the boy had taken off the arm on my throat suddenly returned. A terrified whimper escaped from between my clenched teeth as the gun was shoved closer to my face and the arm began cutting off my air.

"I told you not to lie," he shouted at me, "tell me the truth." My mind was lost again in panic; I could feel tears starting to slip from my closed eyes.

"Who are you?" he shouted again. My breathing was becoming ragged and shallow. "TELL ME."

"I DON'T KNOW!" It was halfway between a scream and a sob. My legs gave out on me and I slumped against the wall. Surprisingly the guy released me, letting me slide to the ground where I sat, rocking back and forth, my head in my hands. "I don't know," I repeated more softly. Every muscle in my body seemed to be clenched as tight as it would go and I had to force every word from my throat. "I can't remember anything before I woke up in this building. I don't know my name, where I'm from, how I got here....," I trailed off into silence.

"Why didn't you tell us that," he asked after a brief pause. The hands on the sides of my head balled into fists and I pressed them harder against my skull, as if I could squeeze the answers out.

"I don't know," I muttered dejectedly, "I was scared, or... lost something." I was starting to babble. "I wanted to be someone. Have a name, an identity. I... wanted someone to talk to me like I was normal." I probably looked pathetic lying on the floor, crying like that, but I didn't care. My whole existence so far had been nothing but one danger after another and it was starting to break me. If I had some past moments to remember, to give me a center to my existence, then perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad. But I had nothing.

I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder, pushing with a gentle pressure, as if to comfort me. I slowly raised my head, still shaking a little, and looked into the eyes of the small blonde girl. She didn't smile, there hadn't been a single expression on her face since I first saw her, but it was still comforting. She moved her hand, holding it in front of her as if to shake hands.

"Hello Kim," she said slowly through her accent, "my name is Greta." I stared at her small, pale hand hovering in front of me. Slowly I reached out, taking her hand in mine.

I didn't smile either, but I suddenly felt a lot warmer.

_To be continued..._

****

**_Dragon Blade5 - _**_I'm actually making the chapters in this story longer than they were in my other ones. I'm not sure why, it just seemed to work better. This one took a little longer than I'd have liked, but with Halo 2 being released, what can you expect._

**_Yamal_**_ **- **Glad I'm still holding your interest. The girl will be having flashbacks pretty consistently, but the major revelations are still a couple chapters away. Though you will probably see Ron in the next one._

**_Scarlet Azalea - _**_Thanks for the reviews to ALL my stories. I was bowled over by them. I really appreciate the VERY kind words and hope to keep things interesting._

P.S. -- "_мысль_ _светлый" _means "mind light" in Russian. According to the online dictionary anyway.


	4. Barefoot Geese

_You'd think that with the billions Disney makes everyday, they could afford to throw me a couple of their smaller properties. But NO. They keep it all to themselves. I don't get anything that will make me money. CURSE YOU DISNEY! Oh, and please don't sue me._

**Prodigy**

****

Chapter 4 - Barefoot Geese

****

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

****_"Madness is the vaguest illness ever known to man." One of my psychology professors used to say that. Unlike other health problems, the "cure" for madness doesn't follow any concrete rules. What makes a person insane? How do we define insanity? I remember reading about a test case where one patient got a hold of a marker and wrote the words "I am sane" on the walls of the lounge area. This man's case was particularly difficult since he refused to believe he had any problem. He kept insisting that he was sane and everyone else was crazy._

_ I didn't pay too much attention to the case, but a little voice in my head kept asking the question, "What if he was right?" How do we know for sure that someone's apparent insanity isn't really just a different perspective of the world around us? And how do we know that our perception isn't wrong? I have been called a "remarkable man", even the word genius has been used. What if genius was just another form of insanity? Think of how many "geniuses" have died young; burnt out. And there is always the close connection between the genius and obsession. The genius' single-minded pursuit of a goal or theory; blinded to all else except for the completion of their work._

_ I am feeling this way now. I have perfected my drug. I can now unlock the psychic potential of anyone with a brain glow. The executives can't be happier, but I am still worried. This new drug needs to be tested and not just on rabbits and monkeys. This is a line I fear to cross. I do not know how to proceed on this since it is rather unique in the history of medicine. The NDC executives have seen me personally and insisted that I not worry. They assure me that they will find suitable volunteers and take care of all the paperwork. It sounds like a researcher's dream come true, but I am beginning to be uneasy. I pray that it is just nervousness over the testing of the drug, but I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going on and I'm falling deeper and deeper into the middle of it._

For a few minutes we all just sat there, looking at the ground. Then the other two suddenly followed Greta's example, the boy offering a hand to help me up.

"I'm Terrance Watts," he said gently, pulling me to my feet. "Sorry about all that. I'm just a little paranoid after all this time."

"Yes, I'm afraid we've both become a little hard lately," the dark skinned woman stepped forward. "My name is Naru James. I am pleased to meet you 'Kim'."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, "After all; better safe than sorry." They nodded in agreement. An awkward silence fell over the room during which we all once again found the floor very interesting.

"So, what do you do?" Greta asked, finally breaking the uneasy atmosphere.

"Sorry?"

"The experiments," Terrance clarified, "what ability did it give you."

"I'm telekinetic," Naru explained, "I can move stuff around with my mind. Greta got all the internal stuff. Reading minds, astral projection, psychic suggestion... stuff like that."

"And you?" I raised an eyebrow at the boy in front of me.

"Pyrokinetic. I make fire."

"You guys seem really well informed on this stuff. This is all new to me." They rattled off technical names like it was nothing where I would have been speechless.

"Well," Terrance shrugged, "spending day after day with scientists who talk about you like you're not there, you start to pick up the lingo."

"Oh, well I'm not really sure," I said, scratching the back of my neck, "so far I've only moved stuff around. Except...," I trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"What?" Terrance looked at me curiously.

"Well... in the hallway; just before Greta talked to me. I threw some guards around, but... it didn't really feel like I was moving them. At least not like the other things." I noticed that Naru and Terrance suddenly seemed very interested in what I was saying. I frowned a little, trying to put it into words. "It was more like I shot something out of me that hit them."

"Hmmm," Terrance rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. The guy, while younger than Naru, seemed to be the brains of the group. "Was anything else in the hallway affected?" he asked me.

"Yeah, the windows all broke," I answered.

"Sounds like some sort of telekinetic projection," he said after another spell of vigorous thought. "No psychic or mind reading incidents?" I shook my head. "You know, I'd like to see what all you can do. If they really did use some different treatment on you, who knows what the full effects are."

"Quite so," Naru said, stepping forward, "but perhaps you could save your tests for another time, Terr. Perhaps first, we should worry about getting out of here."

"Well, after my little scene in the hall I'm sure they know someone's in the building," I admitted, shaking my head a little, "I don't think the method we had planned is going to work."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Terrance smirked at me, "escaping the building will be easy. We could have done it anytime. You'd think they'd be smarter than to leave us in the same room." My look of disbelief caused his smile to grow a little. "Well, we had three people here with psychic powers. Hell, Greta could get out easily by herself. All she'd have to do is fiddle with the security guards' minds until she was invisible to them."

"Well, why haven't you already escaped then?"

"We had no idea exactly where we were or who we could trust," Naru answered. "We did not know if this was the work of some government, whether we were near a city or in the middle of the wilderness; nothing. Much as we disliked it, we had little choice but to remain."

"Now that we have someone who knows what's going on," Terrance continued, "we can finally get out of here. Greta," he said, turning to the little blonde girl, "can you keep all four of us invisible?"

"Yes," she furrowed her brow in thought, "but I'll have to concentrate real hard. I won't be able to walk on my own."

"Okay, I'll carry you," he turned, pointing to the black girl, "Naru, you stay ready in case anything goes wrong." They turned toward the door, preparing to leave. I remained in the back of the small group, having been given no task to perform. Not that I minded, of course. The others seemed to have picked up on the fact that my control over my abilities was tenuous at best. I, for one, was relieved that we wouldn't have to rely on them to escape.

"We have to stop by the storage room," the small, German girl's voice interrupted the activity in the room.

"Greta," Terr sighed, "we can't go looking for your necklace now. Getting out of here is more important."

"Not to me," Greta replied, stubbornly. "I want my necklace or we don't go." It was obvious from the looks on the other two's faces that without Greta's help, the escape would be far from simple.

"Perhaps it would not take too long," Naru said calmly, placing a hand on Terr's shoulder. "I'm sure we all would like to retrieve our things."

"What's going on?" I asked, not really understanding what they were talking about.

"All our personal belongings were taken from us, including a necklace that Greta's mom gave her," Terr explained. "She spent time looking through some of the guards' minds and found where everything was kept."

"It's not that far," the little girl looked up hopefully at the older boy. Sighing, Terr finally relented and we all slipped quietly out the door. Terr had Greta riding on his shoulders while she squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on making us invisible to everyone else. Naru and I walked close behind, the African girl keeping a sharp eye on every guard or doctor we passed, looking for any sign that they had seen through Greta's deception.

None of them did though, and we arrived at our destination without incident. The small room was at the end of an isolated hallway. Inside metal shelves lined the walls, white boxes stacked randomly on them. Greta finally relaxed, slipping down from Terr's shoulders as the three walked over to the shelves and began reading the labels on the boxes. There were no names on them, just numbers. The others must have known their numbers already since they all seemed to find their boxes rather quickly.

As they opened them and began rummaging through their lost belongings, I walked idly around the room, until I caught a glimpse of one of the labels. The number on it was #173, the same number that had been given to me in the computer files. It had never occurred to me that anything that was taken from me would be here as well. Shaking a little, I pulled the box from the shelf. Sitting down on the floor I slowly removed the lid and looked inside.

A heavy, winter army jacket was on top, its hood and inside lined with fur. A pair of heavy pants and boots went along with it. A gray, long sleeved shirt was next, which I almost cast aside until the stains on the front caught my eye. Looking again, I could see the holes near the bottom of the shirt and the dark red color that seemed to stain most of the bottom half.

"Oh my god." The whisper of amazement drew my attention to the others who had gathered behind me when they saw me with a box. Naru, the one who had spoke, had a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Terr grimaced painfully at the sight while Greta's eyes moved around the room, looking at everything but the shirt. There was nothing to say, really, so I silently laid the shirt aside and looked at the remaining item in the box.

I had hoped for a wallet with an ID, but the pants and jacket had been empty and the only thing left was a pair of military dog tags. I doubted they were mine since I didn't look old enough to be in the army. Holding them up I read the name, Rosalyn Peters. Images suddenly flashed through my mind. I was standing in a room with a woman. She wore military clothes and had her hair cut very close to her scalp. Somehow I knew her name was the same one that was on the dog tags. She was smiling at me in a knowing kind of way.

_"Tough isn't it?" she said, smirking at me._

_ "What is?" I replied, putting as much attitude as I could behind the question._

_ "Perfection." Her answer caught me off guard. "I know what it's like. I went through much the same thing once."_

Another flash and I saw her again, some blood smeared on her face, but that same smile on her lips. She whispers something to me that I can't remember and puts the dog tags around my neck. The sound of splintering wood rips through the air as a door behind her is kicked in and gunfire fills the room.

As quickly as they had come, the images were gone, leaving me back in the present. The others looked from me to the pile of clothes to the dog tags in my hand.

"Rosalyn Peters," Terr read the name over my shoulder, "could that be you?"

"No," I said, knowing it to be true, "she was a friend, I think. Something... happened to her... or us. I can't quite remember." I was still trying to force more memories from my brain when I felt the temperature in the room suddenly rise. Glancing around I noticed Terr starring angrily at the bloody shirt.

"I've had it with this place," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. Looking around the room he snatched up a duffel bag from one of their boxes and walked over to a row of filing cabinets. Opening up a couple of the end drawers he stuffed some of the files into the bag. "That should be about two or three years of these creeps' history," he said, zipping up the bag, "might have some information on you, Kim. Not to mention just what these jerks might be up to."

Motioning us to follow, he headed out of the room. I left the shirt and pants behind, grabbing the coat and putting the tags around my neck along with the Doc's ring. We followed Terr into the hall where Greta resumed her psychic trance thing and we hurried to the elevators. As we descended towards the basement we suddenly heard news of our escape announced over the speakers. Terr, however, didn't seem too worried about it.

"They're too late to stop us now," he said, adding in a whisper, "and in a couple minutes they won't even matter anymore." I'll admit that the tone in his voice sent a slight shiver down my spine. Upon reaching the basement, we didn't head immediately for the exit, like I thought we would. Instead, Terr led us towards another doorway in one corner of the room. Inside there was a small flight of metal steps leading down to a large room containing what looked like the buildings heating system.

"Kim?" I looked up at Terr's question. "Is there anyone between us and the door?" I ran a little ways back into the other room, looking towards the metal curtain that led to the loading dock. The basement appeared to be empty. Terrance nodded when I told him and set Greta back on the floor. "Okay, Greta you can stop now." The small girl seemed to relax, looking up expectantly at the older boy. "Everyone get ready to leave in a hurry." His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes narrowing at the machine in front of him. A wave of heat suddenly hit me in the face, as if I had been standing in front of a blast furnace. Flames erupted from the walls and floor, scorching the bricks and setting everything else ablaze.

"Let's get out of here," Terr yelled over the roar of the fire. We all turned and ran towards the outer door. Alarms were going off all over the place and the sprinkler system in the room was making a futile attempt to extinguish the flames. Throwing up the metal curtain we ran out onto the cement of the parking lot, no longer bothering to hide our escape. I glanced Naru gesture towards something just as a dumpster flew from the ground and crashed through the fence surrounding the building.

Behind us the NDC building shuddered as the heating system exploded, sending flames shooting through the ventilation system. After we had put some distance between us and the building we turned back, standing there as each floor caught flame. Soon the entire structure was engulfed, thick black smoke pouring from the windows. There was no cheering, no pats on the back or relieved talk. Just silence, only the distant roar of the inferno breaking the utter stillness. We finally turned away and I led them to where the Doc would pick us up.

There was an old dirt road running through the woods that flanked one side of the property, well hidden from the outside, but not so much that you could get lost looking for it. The cold winter air was cutting through me like a knife and I hoped that the Doc would already be waiting. The coat I had taken from the box helped, but my legs were still covered by nothing but the flimsy hospital pants. Luckily we only had to walk a little ways down the road before we spotted the car. I waved at him as we approached and heard the answering clunk as he shifted into reverse and drifted back to meet us.

Troskey got out of the car and I suddenly found myself scooped up into the biggest bear hug I had ever seen or felt. Laughing heartily he lifted me clear off the ground, the heavy coat he was wearing added to his sheer size almost swallowing me up completely.

"Doc," I gasped, though I couldn't help but chuckle a little myself, "I can't breathe." Smiling hugely he set me back down, apologizing for his exuberance.

"Forgive me," he chuckled, "I often tend to forget my size." I laughed back, somewhat surprised at how glad I was to see the old scientist. Looking back, I noticed the somewhat nervous expressions of the others.

"Sorry guys," I said, turning back to them. "This is Dr. Troskey. He's the one who helped me escape." There were some mumbled greetings from Terr and Naru who still seemed a little startled by the scholarly giant in front of them. It didn't really surprise me, I had much the same reaction when I first met the Doc. What DID surprise me was the look of anger coming from Greta. I might have expected her to be a little wary of the huge man, but she looked like she positively hated him.

"You did this to us," her small voice was like ice, and as soon as it was out of her mouth I realized I had made a huge mistake. "You're the one who did the experiments. You made them. You put the stuff in our heads." Terr and Naru's looks of confusion slowly turned from realization to more anger as Greta continued. Terr's eyes narrowed in the direction of the Doc and I could feel the air around us begin to heat up.

"Wait," I shouted, stepping in between the Doc and the others, hoping to diffuse the situation quickly, "it's not like that..."

"Move Kim," Terr cut me off, "He kidnapped us and pumped chemicals into our brains. He turned us into a bunch of damned lab rats."

"He didn't mean for that to happen," I insisted, though it didn't seem to make any impression on the others.

"That does not excuse what he has done," Naru shot back. Looking at their faces I could see that I wasn't going to reason with them. This wasn't about Troskey anymore, it was about revenge against anyone they could find to hold responsible. I understood how they felt. Months locked up as nothing more than a guinea pig, who wouldn't need to blow off a little steam. I was feeling much the same way, which is probably why I started acting hostile right back.

"Leave him alone," I said flatly, narrowing my eyes at the others. "You want to do anything to him, you'll have to go through me first."

"Kim, I..., " Troskey started to protest, but I cut him off before he could go further.

"No," I snapped, "that place used you the same as it did us. I'm not letting them hurt you just so they can feel better." I felt Greta poking at my mind, trying to talk to me, but I pushed her thoughts away roughly. The snow around us had started to melt, the temperature continuing to rise as Terr got angrier. My feet suddenly scraped the ground and I could feel something pushing at my arms and legs. Naru was obviously trying to push me out of the way, not too violently though; they still seemed loathe to actually hurt me.

I could feel the buzzing covering my brain and I let it flow around me, focusing on the feeling of Naru's mind. With a bit of effort I managed to push Naru's mind away from me, instantly bringing the pushing to a stop. Greta and Naru still seemed to be reluctant to attack me outright, but Terr looked like he might not be quite so reasonable.

"I'm warning you Kim," he growled, "move now or I WILL do it for you." My first impression of Terrance made me suspect he had a short temper and one look at his expression told me he was just angry enough to go through with his threat. But like I said, I had some unresolved anger of my own to work out and with the rest of them threatening the Doc, I was more than happy to direct it their way. Terr made the first move, fire sprung up around me and Troskey, not close enough to burn, but the heat was almost too much to stand.

The buzzing reacted, shooting out around me. The flames flickered and were pushed away, only to be replaced with stronger ones, as Terr doubled his efforts. I kept pushing at the growing flames, mostly instinct directing the heat away from the Doc and myself. Terr was getting angrier by the second. It was obvious he was on the verge of losing it altogether and trying to flat out incinerate me and the Doc. With an angry cry he suddenly sent a wall of flame directly at us. I brought my arms up, desperately pushing the fire to either side, creating a small pocket within the inferno. Heat washed over me, blistering my arms. If I had any hair left it would probably have ended up singed. I was shaking with the effort and I could tell Terr was trying just as hard.

**_"STOP!"_** The mental scream lanced through all our brains, shocking everyone into inactivity. Terr's flames died away, leaving the trees and ground smoking as we turned to the source of the cry. Greta stood near Naru, tears running down her face. Her expression was pretty much the same as always, but her voice shook slightly as she talked.

"Stop fighting," she yelled angrily, "I didn't mean for you to fight. I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you'd all get so mad." She sniffed a little, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "He IS sorry," she said pointing to the Doc, "and he was the one who..." she trailed off, glancing briefly at me. I knew what she was talking about, but I had been loathe to tell Terr or Naru about it.

"He was the one," I continued for her, "who really rescued you. If it hadn't been for him, I... wouldn't have come back." I couldn't look at them as I said it. I knew they probably wouldn't blame me, but I felt ashamed anyway. "Look," I said after a moment's silence, "I'm sorry. I should have told you who the Doc was."

"Yeah, you should have," Terr answered back immediately. "But I overreacted," he continued, his voice softer, "I should've listened."

"I am sorry as well," Naru walked over to us, "I, too, was angry and would not listen to reason. Perhaps we can all try again."

"Sure," I say, my voice almost a whisper. The next few minutes are used for introductions. I can tell the Doc is beating himself up over this whole thing as he fusses over each of the others, apologizing profusely to all of them several times. Eventually we all load into the car and head for the motel. The ride back is a silent one, though not really too uncomfortable. Once we're back at the room the Doc shoos the others inside, instructing them to wash themselves up and rest while he gets us all something hot to eat.

After dinner (pretty much the same thing the Doc and I had last night) there was a unanimous decision to make it an early night. Troskey suggested that he sleep in another room, but I wouldn't let him, insisting that he stay with the rest of us. I could tell he was still nervous about the others' reaction to him, but I refused to let him feel like an outcast. Troskey ended up in one bed while Naru and Greta shared the other. Terr and I got some extra blankets and took the floor.

The dreams came almost as soon as I'd closed my eyes. I was running from someone. That man from my other dream, with the thin face and cold, dark eyes. He wasn't behind me, but I could see his face in my mind, those dead eyes glaring at me. Then, suddenly, I was in my room, lying on the bed. A noise made me jump. Walking out the door I moved to the top of the staircase, peeking around the corner to see what was happening downstairs. My blood froze as I saw our front door wide open, the one side of the doorframe splintered and cracked where it had been kicked in.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw him. Standing in the middle of my living room. He was shouting, telling the others to search my house. The sound of heavy boots filled the air as the others searched the rooms. They were dressed like soldiers with black masks and body armor. Two of them returned, dragging someone with them.

"Where is she?" the leader asked, his voice thin and menacing. The person wouldn't answer, yelling at them to get out. Without hesitating, he pulled his gun from his holster, brought it up to the other's head and...

"**MOM!**" My scream split the still air of the apartment room as I sat up abruptly, now fully awake, sweating and shaking severely. I could feel tears on my face and realized I was crying. The others woke up at my cry, quickly crowding around me, asking if I was okay.

"Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?" Troskey sat at my side, gently rubbing my back as he talked.

"I-I'm okay," I stammer, my voice still a little raspy from crying, "it was... j-just a bad dream. I could use a g-glass of water, though." Naru immediately volunteered to get it and was back in seconds. They sat by me until I had finished the glass and insisted that I was fine. One by one they withdrew to their beds, each asking once more if I would be okay. I lay back down, curling into a tight ball under my blanket. I hadn't wanted to worry the others, but the truth was that I wasn't okay. Ever since I had woken up in that room, my over-all goal had been finding out who I was. I figured that once I found my past that would be it. This was the first time it occurred to me that perhaps I had nothing left to go back to.

The next morning Troskey laid out the next part of his plan to us. He knew someone in town that ran a small boating business, running tours and fishing trips, and had arranged for him to take all of us across the Atlantic to a small island near the coast of Scotland.

"You'll all be safe there while I try to get things sorted out here."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Terr asked, looking over at him from the armchair.

"Since I'm not sure who all's involved with the NDC up here I'll head down to the states," the Doc explained, packing a duffel bag on the bed. "I'll give the authorities there all the information and evidence I have. Those files you four took should make it a lot easier to convince people."

"We still haven't looked through those things," I said, shrugging on my coat.

"I'll go through them later, after you are all safely away," the Doc answered as he got ready to go. Taking a deep breath I prepared for the inevitable resistance to the announcement I was about to make.

"Actually," I said, pausing a minute before continuing, "I'm not leaving with the others." There was a brief second of silence before every person began to ask me why or to tell me how much of a mistake this was. I waited till they had quieted down a little before attempting to explain it to them. I hadn't even told the Doc about my conversation with the hacker, Wade, but now I went over the whole thing. I told them about the supposed military investigation of the NDC, about the three members still missing, and about the young man in the mental institute.

"And after seeing that shirt in my belongings," I concluded, "it seems even more likely that I may be one of those missing people. And if I am, that guy must know who I am."

"But he's insane," Terr protested, "and he's on trial for murder."

"Yeah, for high ranking members of the NDC," I reminded him. "What if they're setting him up? Maybe he isn't crazy and the NDC is behind it. Besides, if he was with this team of soldiers who were investigating the corporation, he probably knows more about this whole thing than any of us." The others still didn't like the idea, but had to concede that last point. Terr, Naru, and Greta offered to stay and help, of course, but I refused adamantly. I agreed to join them right after I saw "Ron" and got any information he had.

"Don't worry guys," I tried easing their fears, "with the Doc along, getting into see this whacko will be easy. Hey, after that fire at the building, these guys might think we're all dead anyway." It took a little to convince all of them to let me stay, especially Troskey. I was only able to get him to agree by swearing to never leave his side. Everyone finally relented and we finished packing and loaded into the car.

The Doc dropped us off at another motel a few hours away. He said it would take a day or so to set everything up so we were to stay in the room and lay low. Leaving us money for food and maybe a little shopping ("don't go anywhere too public" he lectured) he left to fix everything with his friend. It took about two days for him to return. We did go get a couple changes of clothes since we were all pretty sick of wearing the hospital outfits. A local thrift store was our only stop where I got a comfortable flannel shirt and some jeans that turned out to be a little too big. The rest of the time was actually spent practicing using my "powers" with the others. By the time the Doc got back I had gotten pretty good at moving things around and had even started doing some empathic stuff.

The ride to the docks was rather quiet save the instructions from Troskey. Once they reached the island they would be taken by the captain to a nearby inn. From there they would get a taxi to a secluded house near the shoreline.

"It belongs to a colleague of mine," Troskey explained, "though he doesn't really use it. He gave me a copy of the key a couple years ago in case I wanted to use it as a vacation house. I've told him you'd be staying there and the refrigerator is fully stocked. There will be a debit card waiting for you with a considerable account. Also, an account has been set up with the local market in case you need more groceries." He mentioned a few more little things about the bedrooms and over-all furnishings, but it was mostly just nervous conversation. After about 45 minutes of driving the docks came into view.

The good-byes were relatively brief. Terr and Naru made one more offer to stay and help, but I once again insisted that I would be fine. Greta's expression was neutral as always, but the waves of emotions she was sending me made her feelings clear. Terr and Naru both hugged me tightly, which I appreciated even though I felt a little awkward about it. Greta merely returned my gaze, sending me all her sadness at leaving directly to my mind. I smiled a little, nodding at her as I sent back a promise to see her again. Troskey and I stood on the docks, waving to them until the boat was nothing but a speck on the horizon.

The Jean-Paul LeBeau airfield was easily located with the help of a phonebook and, just as Wade promised, the mere mention of his name got us a free ride to an Indiana airstrip. The Institute where Ron Stoppable was being treated was about two hours away, but it was a simple matter to call for a taxi. I had sort of planned on parting ways with the Doc once we were in the U.S., but he insisted on coming with me.

"I am a brain specialist, my dear," he chuckled as he brushed aside my protests, "it will be simplicity itself for us to see Mr. Stoppable if I am along. How were you planning on getting in alone?" I felt a little foolish at that. I had thought briefly about saying I was a friend who wanted to visit, but without any identification I wouldn't have been able to see a normal patient let alone one on trial for murder. So I finally gave up and agreed to let Troskey come with me. Truthfully I was rather relieved to have the Doc along. I still wasn't sure I was ready to be on my own again so soon.

Troskey, of course, was absolutely right. All he had to do was flash his credentials and the staff arranged a visitation for "an examination of heightened electro-chemical disturbances in the left hemisphere". We were led to a plain room with four chairs. The orderly showed us in, telling us he would be right outside if we needed anything. We didn't have long to wait for them to bring in Stoppable. He looked quite like he did in the news report if a little worse for the wear. He wore regulation hospital pants while a straight jacket restricted his arms. He didn't look at us as he was led in, but kept his eyes on the floor, a vacant expression on his face as he muttered some sing-song melody to himself. As the two orderlies sat him down and left the room there was a moment of silence with no one saying anything except for the quiet singing of Stoppable.

"Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot. Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot. Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot."

"Mr. Stoppable," Troskey finally spoke, though getting no response.

"Cree craw toad's foot..."

"Mr. Stoppable, my name is Domovoi Troskey."

"... geese walk barefoot."

"If we could just ask you a few questions..."

"Cree craw toad's foot..."

"Ronald?" I finally spoke, getting rather frustrated with the unresponsive kid.

"... geese wa..." he stopped abruptly as soon as I spoke. He was silent for a second, his head slowly starting to shake back and forth. "No," he finally muttered, his head rising almost reluctantly to look at me. His eyes narrowed, his face taking on a pained expression. "No," he croaked again, turning away and falling out of his chair, pushing himself back against the wall. "No," it was louder this time, his voice taking on a panicked edge, "you're dead. I saw it. You're dead. They're all dead. All dead." I was frozen in my seat at his reaction, but Troskey was out of his chair in an instant, kneeling beside the frantic boy.

"Calm down son," he spoke calmly, trying to stop the boy's violent shaking. Suddenly he paused, looking carefully at Stoppable's face as if examining something. "His pupils are dilated," he noted absent mindedly, "and the edges of his cornea are red." He placed both hands under the boy's jaw, feeling around a little. "Slight swelling," he mumbled. "Kim, this boy is drugged. I would say he's been being drugged for quite awhile."

"Wouldn't they have done that in here," I asked. "Sedatives or something?"

"That's not what I mean," he said, checking over Stoppable's symptoms again. "It's some kind of lithium base drug. Most likely lithium-dioxin." Seeing my blank stare he clarified. "Kim, litium-dioxin is a hallucinogen. It's used in small amounts in some sedatives, but by itself and in the amount that this boy seems to have been given... it would drive a person insane." His words were a catalyst, causing pieces of the puzzle to fall into place in my mind. Wade said that Ron had been a part of the team that was investigating the NDC. Suppose, just suppose, that I was with that same team. The rest of the team was killed. I was kept alive for my "brain glow", and Ron was kept alive to confirm everyone else's death, but was kept drugged into insanity to keep him from revealing anything he may have found out about the company.

"Ron," I said softly, walking towards the cowering boy, but stopping when he started to tense up at my presence. "Ron," I called again, "can you tell me what happened? What did you find out about the Northern Drug Corporation? What are they doing?" Stoppable still wouldn't look at me, cowering against the wall, shaking. But his muttering ceased for a minute and he whispered a word, his voice hushed and fearful.

"Prodigy." The room lapsed into silence again, the Doc kneeling by Ron while I stood a short distance away, watching them and listening to Stoppable's resumed sing-song tune.

"Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot."

"Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot."

"Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk barefoot."

"Cree craw toad's foot... "

_To be continued..._

_I apologize profusely for my tardiness in updating, but I've had a slew of problems. My internet was down for almost a month and then almost as soon as I got it back my monitor blew out. I've recently replaced it and am back in working order (for the time being). I will endeavor to update quicker next time. Answers will start coming pretty fast now._

**Scarlet Azalea - **Thanks for the continued interest in my stories. I always appreciate the feedback.

**Yamal - **Still here, eh? You ARE a glutton for punishment. Ha! Seriously though, reading back over the chapter I can see what you mean about it being confusing. I agree; flashbacks are great. Cryptic and spooky. I love 'em.

**AngelOfBlades - **Thanks for the kind words. I will most definitely continue. I'm rather attached to this story and really want to finish it. Especially since I got a couple others I'm eager to start on.

_Thanks all for the reviews. The next chapter will be comin' soon._


	5. A Broken Mirror

_You know, I start every chapter by saying how I don't own any of the characters and how they all belong to Disney, but lately... I don't know. It's kinda lost its magic somehow. sigh_

**Prodigy**

Chapter 5 - A Broken Mirror

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

****_Who am I? It is a question I have sometimes asked myself. I know who I THINK I am; an identity built from my many experiences throughout my life. However, my view isn't always the same as other people's view. Their perception of who Domovoi Troskey is may be completely different from my own. Some might see me as a genius, some merely as a gifted doctor. There are those who look at me and think, "he is Russian", and still others who would view me as an obsessive eccentric. They're views of me are based, not only on my interactions with them, but also on their own experiences in their lives._

_ Sometimes I would wonder just which identity was more real. In my work I am often among colleagues and at conventions where I tend to show a slightly different version of myself than what I am used to. Given the amount of time I spend in this persona, is it more of a reality than the way I view myself in private? Is my private persona still viable or nothing more than a left over from my childhood? How much do I base my behavior on my views of the person I am speaking to? I often ask myself these questions, but never come to any answer. I am not sure there is one. For if I leave behind my private persona I may gain more peace of mind, but would also be abandoning a part of myself that made me who I am today._

_ The thought of identity has become much more important to me of late. The NDC has, indeed, provided me with volunteers to test my formula. But who are they? I am very troubled by the fact that I have not been able to properly meet any of these people. By the time I am informed that the subject is here, they are already under sedation awaiting the procedure. A young African woman was the first volunteer. The procedure went smoothly and seemed to be a complete success. Much to my chagrin, I was not allowed to see the young lady afterwards or at all for that matter. The executives claimed that it was to maintain the secrecy of the project from other companies until its perfection. When I insisted on monitoring her progress they allowed me to view recorded testing sessions._

_ #168, as so they called her, seemed to have developed telekinetic abilities. My research had shown that the mind would probably funnel all the excess energy into one function much the way some people are naturally gifted in art, music, math, etc. The boy was next. #169 was a little younger than #168. She appeared to be in her early twenties while he seemed to be around 17 or so. As before he was sedated and prepped before my arrival and afterwards I could only view his progress via the recordings they made. While watching the boy display his pyrotechnic developments, I mentioned that the researchers seemed rather cold and harsh to the two volunteers. But the executives once again soothed my doubts, assuring me that this was only to preserve the testing environment and that outside of the testing area the two young people were treated with the utmost care and respect._

_ I sometimes have my doubts, but this is a multi-million dollar company; I'm sure everything is above board. Then they brought me #171. I nearly choked at the sight of the 10 to 12 year old child lying unconscious on the lab table. I had been voicing my concerns for some time, but the company's constant reassurances had kept me going. Now, however, after I refused to perform the procedure on this child their reassurances have changed. I am beginning to detect faint threats behind their words. Is it my imagination? I'd like to think so, but my feelings tend to think otherwise. I will go through with the procedure, though it disgusts me to do so. They say the little girl is dying and had volunteered with the permission of her parents. They have documentation so I suppose it is all okay. But I am not sleeping well and I fear that someday my suspicions will bear fruit, but I will be too far in to escape._

"It's the NDC. It has to be." Troskey looked back at me as he pulled Stoppable to his feet, supporting the boy against the wall. "They've been intentionally driving this poor boy insane. They must have one of the staff on their payroll; someone who's been switching his meds with lithium-dioxol."

"Wade said that he was with the military team that was investigating this site C. That kid was the only one found alive." My head was starting to hurt, but answers were finally starting to come and I couldn't stop. "What if that wasn't a mistake? What if they left him alive for a reason?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," the Doc said, sounding angrier than I had ever heard him. "Those... bastards have no scruples at all. Kim, we've got to get this boy away from here. His symptoms are obvious, it should be simple to convince the warden here that... "His sentence was cut short by a sudden sound. A far away crack that echoed through the hallways, followed shortly by another.

"What is that?" My every instinct was screaming 'danger', but I held onto the thin hope that it was something innocent. Troskey dashed those hopes instantly.

"Those were... gunshots," his voice was barely above a whisper. "The staff must've checked my credentials on their database. I didn't think they'd be monitoring for it in the states." Troskey looked over at me, panic and despair written on his face. "It must be the NDC. They must have been monitoring the internet and seen when the Institute checked my ID."

"We've got to get out of here," it was obvious, but I was frantic. Opening the door I saw the orderlies already running towards the sounds. I was about to call out to them when I saw a flash of black come around the far corner. I heard the crack of gunfire, but slammed the door before I saw the two orderlies fall to the ground. "They're already outside," I cried, rushing over to Troskey and Stoppable. The blonde guy had gone completely still, not even reacting when I grabbed his other arm and helped Troskey lead him towards the other doorway.

The door led to the other section of the institute; corridors lined with the patients' rooms. Stoppable, while not responsive, still managed to walk on his own so we moved rather quickly, our haste fueled by the occasional sound of gunshots echoing through the building.

"Here," Troskey suddenly pulled to the right, heading for a door marked 'Emergency'. "They must have cut the power to the building security," he reasoned as we pushed open the door and no alarm sounded, "they don't want the police showing up too soon."

"Does this go all the way down," I asked, indicating the staircase behind the door.

"It should," Troskey answered, hurrying us along as we descended towards the ground floor. "This should lead us to the back emergency door. Hopefully we can beat them there and get to the car while they are still searching the building."

Several frantic minutes ticked by, though it felt a lot longer. Finally the stairs ended and a metal door stood before us. Once outside we moved quickly around the building, making sure to stay as hidden as possible. Luckily Stoppable wasn't any burden; he moved fine on his own, all we had to do was keep him going in the right direction. It wasn't long before we came in view of the parking lot. As we approached the car, my relief began to fade, replaced by an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The buzzing in my head seemed to stir up as though reacting to something.

"Someone's here." My whispered epiphany came too late, as a single shot rang out. It was then that I noticed the man stepping out of the shadows near the side of the building. I could swear that my heart stopped beating. That face. I knew it. It was the same one that had been haunting my nightmares for the last few nights. Long and thin with icy, black eyes. He had killed someone I knew (my mom?) and now he had come back for me. But I wasn't shot. A faint groan and a thump pulled my attention away from the man and I turned.

"Doc," my voice croaked, raspy with shock and despair. The giant of a scientist was on the ground, blood soaking his old sweater. The nightmare behind me was momentarily forgotten as I fell to my knees beside Troskey. "Doc, I...," the words stuck in my throat. What was I supposed to say? My mouth opened, but my brain was paralyzed, nothing coming out but soft sobs.

"Shhhh, moya dorogaya," Troskey's hand covered mine, his voice strained and soft. "I kind of suspected this is where my end would be. But I... was able to help before..." His eyes winced in pain, cutting off his words. When he opened them again they were slightly glazed, but still staring at me. His hand reached up, wiping away the tears that were running down my face. "Please... do not cry. I will be fine... I will... "

He trailed off, his eyes closing as his hand fell away. The lock on my brain suddenly broke and I fell forward, clutching Troskey's shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. Everything else melted away as I cried over what was really my only friend. Reality forced its way back in, however, as I was grabbed by the back of my jacket and dragged away from the Doc's body. I was hauled up and thrown against the car. I vaguely noticed Stoppable grabbing at the man's hand, but was knocked to the ground with the handle of the gun.

"We've been looking for you, girl." The voice grated in my ear; a horrible voice; the voice of the devil. "You led us on quite a chase. Again. Whoever thought such a little brat could cause so much trouble." Tears were still running down my face as I half-turned toward him, my teeth grinding together as every muscle in my body seemed to clench.

"Who are you?" My voice was near a shout. Only the sobs that still wracked my chest kept it subdued. "Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave us alone!" His mouth twisted into an almost smile.

"You really don't remember, do you?" His look of astonishment held a hint of amusement to it. "I heard they'd done quite a number on you. Shaved off all that pretty hair, too." He chuckled as he pulled me away from the car, pushing me towards Stoppable so he could keep both of us in sight. "The name's Major Roberts, girl. As for why I'm doing this," he gestured absently to Troskey's body, "it's nothing personal. Hell, if you hadn't been so nosey this never woulda happened. Gotta protect my anonymity after all."

His voice kept droning on, completely devoid of emotion. Every word made my brain burn more and more. Roberts reached for his radio; presumably to call in that he'd found us. I wasn't about to give him the chance. My grief had quickly turned to a rage that grew and grew the more he talked. Without any warning his gun arm was jerked back, twisting until he cried out in pain, dropping his weapon. He tried to move towards us, but was driven back as my eyes narrowed, my mind twisting the arm until I heard a crack.

Roberts slumped back against the car, holding his now broken arm to his chest. The gun skidded away from him, stopping at my feet. Picking it up, I began walking towards the man who had been haunting my dreams night after night. I pressed the gun against his chest, the look on my face making it clear that I WOULD shoot him if he moved. My hand grabbed the wrist of his broken arm, pulling it to the side, drawing another hiss of pain from him. It was strange. This man, who had up to now been a nightmare personified to me, now cringing in pain and fear. Fear of me.

"Who did you kill?" my voice whispered, teeth clenched in anger. "Who did you kill when you came for me?"

"It wasn't personal," he said weakly, his dead eyes darting from my face to the gun in his chest.

"Was it my mom?" I continued as though he hadn't spoken. "Was there anyone else?" He grit his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "WHO!" I shouted at him, my face inches from his. The look on his face sent shivers down my spine. _Everybody?_

"It was business," he hissed back. "I was just doing my job. What I was ordered to do. I'm not heartless." My hand suddenly slammed into his chest as the buzzing in my brain intensified, traveling down my arm. His last words echoed through my head as I let the buzzing seep through my hands, reaching around and into Roberts. His face contorted in renewed pain. He began to spasm, blood started dripping from his mouth. The buckles on his body armor snapped open, revealing a growing stain on the front of his shirt.

"No," I hissed, clenching my powers tightly around my goal, "you're NOT heartless." I pulled back with my mind. A wet ripping sound filled the air, followed by the plop of something squishy hitting the pavement. "But you are now."

Roberts' body slid to the ground. For awhile I just stood there looking at it, pain and contempt still etched on my face. Soon, however, the enormity of what I had just done began to seep in and I stumbled away from the body. Turning again to Troskey I felt my legs starting to give out again. A hand on my shoulder stopped me from collapsing and I turned to find Stoppable staring at me.

"Run." His eyes looked through me more than at me, but the one mumbled word managed to pull me from the brink of going into shock. I wanted to take Troskey with us. The thought of leaving him here on the ground made me sick, but there was no time.

"I'm sorry Doc," I whispered brokenly as I backed toward the car. I led Stoppable into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel myself. I didn't know where I was going, I just started to drive. The night wore on and soon started to melt into dawn, and still we drove. I wasn't really paying much attention to the road; just enough to keep from crashing. By morning we were miles from the Institute, maybe even out of Indiana altogether. Taking an exit off the freeway I soon found a small back road and pulled to the side.

Shutting off the engine I slumped in my seat, my head slowly falling forward until it rested on the wheel. Then the tears came again. It started out soft, just a gentle shaking of my shoulders as tears ran from my eyes. Then Stoppable tentatively put his hand on my shoulder again and I finally lost it. I almost fell against him, his arm hesitantly wrapping around my shoulders as I cried loudly into his shirt. I don't know how long we sat there like that, but eventually I simply dozed off.

When I woke up I found myself still leaning against a slumbering Ron (I figured after all that I could use his first name). I pushed myself up, being careful not to wake him. Sitting there, I tried to calm my mind and figure out what to do. I had Ron, and perhaps I could get something out of his incoherent mumblings. There was also the bag. Climbing into the back seat, I retrieved the duffel bag full of files that Terr had grabbed from the NDC offices. I'd let Ron sleep for now and see if I could make anything out of the papers.

I didn't understand the majority of it, but found a couple folders that had some interesting information in them. One in particular commanded all my attention once I saw the heading. Project: Prodigy. Inside were scientific notes and theories, mostly incomprehensible to me. There was stuff about DNA and memory research as well as genetic engineering talk. There was also a lot of talk about "duplicating genetic and cerebral materials". Did that mean cloning? This was sounding more and more like a bad science-fiction novel.

Near the back of the folder was a satellite map of some area with buildings and fences. The phrase "Government investigation decoy" was written across the top, while its location (Ottawa) was listed at the bottom. A noise from the front seat brought my head up and I saw Ron, awake, staring at the map in my hands.

"Site C," he muttered, looking pointedly at the paper, "Prodigy."

"This is where 'Prodigy' is, huh?" I asked him, holding up the map. I got a small nod. "Well, Ron," I sighed, "looks like we're goin' to Ottawa." I didn't feel nearly as confident as I sounded. But this was my only lead left. I had to know what was going on. And also, I wanted to take this Northern Drug Corporation down. I wanted to see it destroyed for what it had done to Terr, Naru, Greta, Troskey, Ron, me, and who knew who else. If I could find the evidence I needed at this site C, then that was where I was going.

Of course, there was the small matter of getting out of the U.S. first. Having no idea myself, all I could do was try the person who had gotten me out of Canada.

"Ron," I said, looking straight at him, trying to convey how serious I was, "do you know how to get a hold of Wade?" The hacker had sort of implied that he knew Ron and I was hoping that the blonde nut job might have his phone number or something. Unfortunately all I got from Stoppable was a blank stare.

"Wade," I tried again. "Do you know who that is?" Was that a nod? "How can I get a hold of Wade?" I was speaking slowly, like people do in the movies when they're talking to foreigners. Stoppable kept staring at me, but eventually seemed to go thoughtful.

"Hate monkeys." Now it was my turn to stare. Did he just say what I thought he said? "Hate monkeys." Yeah, there it was again. "Dot... com." Realization sparked in my brain.

"You mean a website?" I asked, starting to get a little excited. Another faint nod. Well, it was a start. Now I just needed a computer. Driving to a gas station, we got directions to the local library which, thankfully, had public access computers. I got some stares from the other patrons as I led a near catatonic Ron through the lobby, but no one said anything; probably afraid of offending me in case he was mentally handicapped or something.

The web address brought up a rather comical looking site covered in animated monkeys with lists of why monkeys were scary, the best ways to avoid monkeys, and the top ten monkeys to steer clear of. Was this really a way to get in touch with Wade? I began to wonder if Ron's brain was really fried and it had just popped out some random bit of trivia in answer to my questions. Still, he had told me about this project called Prodigy, so I looked a little closer at the site, clicking the various links.

"Rufus," Ron's voice caught me by surprise. I glanced over to find him pointing meekly at the screen. It was currently displaying a search page. You were supposed to type in a breed of monkey and it would give you a profile on it. Shrugging a little I entered the word 'Rufus' in the search field and hit enter. The page returned a message that it couldn't find any matches to my search. I was just about to give up when the same text field I had seen in the NDC building popped up on screen.

_"Ron, is that you?"_ I jumped a little as the window and message popped up. The site must have been some secret way of contacting Wade. Just what were he and Ron involved in?

_"It's me. From the building. I made it to Indiana."_ I hit the reply button, sending the message to Wade.

_"You found Ron? What did you learn?"_

_"Ron is drugged. Was driven crazy by NDC."_ No message came back for awhile. I got the feeling that Wade was rather upset by this news.

_"Will he get better?"_

_ "Not sure. Gave me location of place called site C. Something about project: Prodigy."_

_ "Where is it?"_

_ "Ottawa" There_ was another pause.

_"That's where the military team was lost. You need transport?"_

_ "Yes"_

_ "Sending information now." _The name of an airport followed along with directions.

_"Thanks Wade."_

_ "Be careful. This place, whatever it is, is dangerous. I really think you should go to the authorities about this."_

_ "After breaking a killer out of a psych ward? I don't think they'd listen."_

_ "I see what you mean. Just take care. I don't want anyone else disappearing up there."_ I smiled a little as I wrote down the airport address and sent a final thank-you to Wade. After what had happened to the Doc it was nice to talk to someone else who really cared, though I think it may have been because Wade assumed I was the 'Kim' that he knew. Actually, I kind of hoped that I was. It would mean that someone was waiting for me if... WHEN I made it through all this. The nightmare about what seemed to be my mom had really got me scared. I had started to wonder if I would even have a life anymore.

The airstrip we were headed for was about two hours away, most of which was passed in silence. Ron had gotten a little more active; he would eat by himself and help out with anything I asked, but he still refused to talk to me. He'd give short answers to important questions, but nothing beyond that. When we arrived at the airstrip, just as before, the mere mention of Wade's name got us instant V.I.P. status.

"After what those kids did for me," the pilot said, pumping my hand violently, "I'd fly you 'round the world for free." He explained how Kim and Ron had rescued his daughter when she was kidnapped by some company looking to take over his business.

"So you've seen them," I asked, hopefully, "Kim and Ron I mean. You've met them?" I was hoping that he would be able to confirm whether or not I was this Kim Wade had spoken of.

"No," my hopes fell at his answer, "my daughter was taken out of state. The two kids rescued her and sent her back, but didn't come along. I only talked with Wade." I nodded, thanking him for the ride.

In a few hours we were landing as near to our destination as we could get. It wasn't that far away and the pilot had given us enough gear that we could easily walk it. The building was in a lightly forested area a good five miles or so from the nearest city. We made our way carefully through the surrounding trees, eventually coming to a slight valley, at the bottom of which was the so-called 'Site C'. As I stared down at the place I suddenly realized I had no idea what to do next. How would we get in there without being seen? How did I even know if anyone or anything was still around?

Confusion and doubt began to tear at my mind, causing the buzzing to flair up suddenly. It's hard to explain what happened next. My entire brain suddenly seemed to focus on one desire; finding a way into the building. The buzzing centered on this desire, coalescing until my vision suddenly flared. I felt something pushing out of my body, like a flock of birds exploding out of my chest. I felt light, like my feet weren't touching the ground. I looked around, feeling like I was moving underwater, and found myself staring at Ron and... myself.

My body had collapsed backward, Ron catching me, and was twitching faintly, like a dog chasing something in its sleep. My eyes were cracked open slightly, the pupils rolled back with only white visible. Panic began to creep into my thoughts until a conversation I had with Greta popped into my head. One of the things she could do was send her thoughts out of her body, Terr called it astral projection. Her descriptions of the experience didn't do it justice. I still felt like I could throw up (if I still had a mouth that is) but couldn't ignore the opportunity that had been presented.

Concentrating on the building again, I was suddenly gliding across the snow, moving faster than I'd ever have been able to run. I circled the fence once, noting that there were few guards around the perimeter. Continuing through the fence I proceeded to examine every entrance, looking for the best way in. I found it near the back. A door at the rear of the building was unguarded and the hallway beyond was all but empty, with only one guard making a short pass every few minutes. Checking a little further in I finally came across a wall plaque with the different sections labeled. One was marked 'Prodigy' and pointed towards the center of the building.

I wanted to continue on, but by this time my vision was getting blurry and I could feel an aching in my non-existent head. Getting back turned out to be no trouble at all. It was like a rubber band snapping. As soon as I decided I was done I felt myself flying backward, slamming back into my body with a gasp. My hands instinctively grabbed at Ron's collar as I came to in his grasp. I had to sit still for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

"Ron," I said when I was able to talk clearly again, "I've found a way in." The guy looked completely lost as to what had just happened, but thankfully went along without any trouble. He seemed to have gotten more alert and responsive over the last couple hours and I was hopeful that this was a sign of the drugs working their way out of his system. Maybe he COULD return to normal. It would certainly make things easier for me anyway.

Working our way around the base to the spot in the fence, we pulled one of the rolled up blankets from my backpack, throwing it over the barbed wire that ran along the top. Once over it was surprisingly simple to make our way along the root I had chosen. There were a couple close calls where we had to quickly duck out of sight to avoid a guard or two, but for the most part we made it through unseen, all the way to the labs where 'Prodigy' was supposed to be. The doors were big, reminding me almost of the doors on bank safes. I let my mind wander into the room a little but could find no conscious thought. There were a few faint thoughts, almost like someone in a deep sleep, but nothing that suggested anything like guards. Ron helped me pull the heavy doors open and we slipped inside.

The first thing that struck me was how white it was. The hallways had all been the same neutral grayish-green, but this room was so white it almost hurt the eyes. The next thing I noticed were the bodies. There were twelve in all, six on each side of the room, all lying in white hospital beds. IV stands stood beside each, giving a constant feed of some clear liquid. Looking closely I could see their chests moving; they were all still alive, but none of them were conscious. I glanced briefly back at Ron who looked as lost as I felt. Turning back I walked to the first bed, looking at the chart that hung on the end.

Each bed had its own chart hanging at the foot. The charts listed names, ages, blood types, and other personal history. There was also a space marked 'Contribution' which seemed to list some special trait or talent of the occupant. There was a chess champion from Norway, a strong man from South America, a couple people with photographic memories, and a savant from Israel. One description was slightly different from the others. 'Olympic level athlete, A-class reflexes and stamina, heightened thought processes.' However, it wasn't the abilities of the bed's occupant that caused my stomach to drop; it was the name.

Possible, Kimberly Ann

For the second time this week, I was left with nothing. I wasn't Wade and Ron's friend. I wasn't the girl Wade had been so eager to find. I was once again a nobody. As I stood there staring at the girl who had (sort of) stolen my identity, I vaguely noticed Ron running to her bedside. I watched numbly as he tore the tubes from her arm and pulled her into a sitting position. I didn't help him as he tried to wake her, talking softly and frantically to her, smoothing back the stray strands of the bright flame-colored hair. I couldn't understand what he was saying, either because he was talking nonsense or because my brain had gone on strike at the moment.

I think we all stood there for about 10 minutes before her eyelids began to flutter. Eyes of a deep emerald green slowly came into focus, looking around groggily before settling on Ron.

"Ron?" Her voice was soft and strained, yet still somehow managed to sound like music. For some reason that made me angry. "Oh God, Ron!" Kim suddenly sat up in bed, flinging her arms around Ron's neck, holding him as close as she could. Feeling a little like a third wheel, I turned away from the two, thinking of maybe waiting outside till they finished their rather sappy reunion (what can I say, I felt bitter for some reason). Sudden noise from outside stopped me, however.

Sounds of boots came from behind the doors and I suddenly realized that the lab with their top secret project inside would most likely have some form of surveillance. Hoping there weren't too many of them, I headed for the door.

"Stay in here," I called over my shoulder, "I might be able to stop them." I didn't see Possible's surprised expression when she looked at me, I was too busy wondering just what the hell I was doing. I wasn't some hero who fought off bad guys. I was the frightened little girl who ran away and hid, letting others take the risks for me. Terr, Naru, Greta... Troskey. The thought of the Doc steeled my resolve. I COULD fight them. Unfortunately, when I opened the door I found it already surrounded by armed guards. I slammed the door shut before they could react, but that wouldn't keep them out. I had to think of something fast. There were just too many of them. Even if I could hit them all at once, one of them could still get a shot off, and that would be all it would take.

As I fidgeted in my panic, my hand bumped my pocket, feeling something heavy inside. Reaching in I pulled out a small brown bottle. It was the domozyl I had found in the Doc's pocket back in the hotel room. I must have taken it out at some point when he had lent me his coat. Maybe, if what he said was true, this could be my answer. I didn't like it, but I liked getting shot a lot less. As the banging on the doors increased I ran over to Ron.

"Can you use a needle?" I asked, grabbing one from the tray by Possible's IV.

"What're you..." Kim started, her speech still a little slurred. I cut her off. We didn't have time for questions.

"Can you use a needle?" I asked again. Ron nodded silently, looking as confused as Kim. "Here," I handed him the bottle, "inject that in me." He hesitated. "Now!" I shouted as another loud bang came from the door. Ron finally complied, quickly finding the vein in my arm and sticking the hypodermic in. It was rushed and I winced at the jab of the needle. I felt the change almost immediately. The buzzing in my head flared to a heightened intensity and I could feel a pressure building behind my eyes. Kim was saying something, but I could no longer hear her.

I stumbled towards the door, by head burning more and more with each step. I threw the door open suddenly, surprising the guards into stepping back and bringing their weapons up. I practically fell through, managing to pull the door mostly shut as I went. One guard was yelling at me to put my hands over my head, but I couldn't even understand what he was saying. I fell to my knees as they surrounded me, holding my head as the buzzing turned to a roar that threatened to blow my eyes out. Red began to seep into my vision and I could feel blood flowing from my nose and ears. More of it collected in my eyes, dripping down my face like crimson tears as the pressure continued to build.

Finally it couldn't go anymore. My body felt like it was being torn to pieces; ripped apart in every direction. There were screams coming from around me as the guards were bashed violently into the walls and ceiling, bones snapping and muscles tearing, but I was oblivious to it all. And then it was over. I fell backwards, my body completely limp; unable to move. I see Kim and Ron come into my line of sight, concern and shock written on their faces. Possible sits down beside me, pulling my head into her lap as her fingers tentatively examine the blood on my face and my bald head. I look up at her blankly, unable to even think clearly as darkness begins to eat at the corners of my vision. As I finally black out, my last sight is of Possible's agonized expression as she looks down at me, her voice ringing in my ears even as I fall into unconsciousness.

"Oh God, Bonnie. What did they do to you?"

_To be continued..._

**_Yamal_****_ - _**_Yeah, it's been forever since the last chapter. What can I say? Well, hope I can make up for it. Some big answers in this chapter, though there are still some questions left. Perhaps I'll explain it all next time. Mua ha ha ha ha ha!_

**_gargoylesama_****_ - _**_Thanks for the review. Afraid I'm not familiar with David Lynch, but glad you enjoy the story. And it seems Ron has been saved... for now._

**_Bajj_****_ - _**_Yeah, if there's one thing that gives me the wicked jeebers, its little children's songs. Put them in the right context and they're downright terrifying._

**_Alice Shade - _**_Special thanks to Alice for clueing me in on some of the Russian mistakes and helping me out with this chapter. As for your questions. Yes, I knew Domovoi wasn't an actual name, but I liked the sound of it and sort of fit with Troskey's personality of a dreamer. Troskey I sort of just made up, though now that you mention Trotcskiy; that might have been in the back of my mind when I was coming up with it. And what is Troskey's patronymic? Wow, I had to break out the dictionary for that one. I'd say it was Troskey. Arrrgh! I've been caught 'fudging the details'._

**_AngelOfBlades_****_ - _**_Careful.__ You'll give me a swelled head. Seriously though, thank you very much for the review. It's nice to know that others are enjoying my stories._

**_Jezrianna2.0 - _**_Thanks for checking out my story. Hope you continue to like it._


	6. Faint Reflections

_I OWN Kim Possible and all related characters. I make millions off them. You have to pay me 5 bucks a word for reading this! Mua ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry, sorta lost it there. I actually don't own Kim Possible and am making no money from it. I get like that sometimes, but banging my head against my bathroom wall for 15 minutes usually fixes it._

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**Prodigy**

****

Chapter 6 - Faint Reflections

**_From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:_**

****_Like many people, I often find myself thinking about death. What happens when the human body dies? I do not believe that we simply cease to exist when we expire, though I do not pretend to know what does happen. From a scientific view, nothing ever really dies. Matter and energy adapt and change. Why should human beings be the sole exception to this rule? While I, like many, am somewhat anxious of death, I would not say that I fear it. In a certain way I am rather curious to see what happens when our organs and brain stop working. But I do not seek death. Which is why I am heading into surgery in 10 minutes._

_ I swore that #171 would be the last procedure I would perform. However, they brought me yet another subject. All the former procedures took place in my lab, but this one was held in the surgical unit. This puzzled me until I saw her state. She had obviously been beaten and had several gunshot wounds. Rudimentary surgery had been done, just enough to keep her alive, and she had been prepped for the procedure._

_ Of course I refused vehemently. All delusions that nothing was wrong were long gone and I had finally faced the fact that something terrible was going on. Unfortunately, as I feared, I was in too deep to escape. Their veiled threats suddenly became much more blunt and I was all but ordered to continue. As I said, I do not seek death so I will do the procedure to save my own worthless skin. I considered simply refusing and letting them end my guilty existence, but there are still things I need to know._

_ I have heard rumors that the company has developed its own drug for unleashing psychic ability, without any of my humanitarian precautions. The jump from registry number 171 to number 173 suggests that they may have already tried their drug and failed. Perhaps this is why they are determined that I continue. I fear that by going through with this it will allow them to complete their plans, but I have no choice. I don't think I will live long afterwards. They have agreed to let me meet with the other subjects at a different location, but I don't believe them. I am not giving up though. I have one thing left to try. I pray that it will do some good, for I cannot stand the thought of dying without making up for my sins in some small way._

Bonnie.

The name looms large in my head, made of letters of steel and iron. They hang in the darkness, suspended by metal cables. I try to say the name, but my mouth is gone. My head is gone, as well as my body. I'm not there. Everything is black, even the letters are swallowed up.

Where am I?

I feel something under my feet. A hard, smooth surface. Suddenly I'm looking at the back of my eyelids. I open them. Detail comes into focus revealing a gymnasium. I'm wearing something tight. A leotard with an attached short skirt. Others are clustered around me, all dressed the same. I see a head of red hair and the name 'Possible' floats down slowly before my eyes; sinking into the floor at my feet.

The scene suddenly shifts as we all turn at the sound of an explosion. One wall collapses and men in red jumpsuits begin storming through. The others are screaming and running, trying to get to the doors across the room. All except one, of course. I feel an unexplainable pang of contempt as the red-headed one runs towards the men. I search for feelings as I watch her fight them, but all I find is annoyance. I seem to be frozen in place, whether from fear or to spite the red-head, I don't know. I flinch as one is thrown towards me. He's on his feet in a second, grabbing me around the neck and pulling me close.

He's yelling something to the red-head, telling her to give up or he'll hurt me. It's strange. I don't feel much fear or anger. The strongest feeling is no more than a vow. To make sure I am NOT rescued by the red-head. Don't let her save me. With this one thought burning in my head I lash out violently sending us stumbling backwards. My hands happen to grab the hood and visor that covers his face as we fall. I land on the ground, his mask in my hands. I look up to find him staring back at me. I once again see the face of the killer. The face of the man who's heart I ripped out not too long ago.

He makes a grab for me, but I'm already scrambling away. The red-head pounces on him then. She didn't save me. I did it myself. Why do I feel so good about that? The man orders a retreat. The men throw some canisters on the ground releasing thick clouds of smoke. I cough and hear the red-head doing the same close by. By the time everything clears the men are gone. The red-head's saying something about them, reasoning out some hypothesis. I throw a snide comment about her letting them get away and walk away from her.

Pain suddenly creeps into my head and the memory wavers. For an instance I feel arms around me, carrying me. I hear whispers and the sound of boots passing by. Then I fall away, once again finding myself in the house I'd dreamed of before. I once again watch as Roberts calmly shoots my mom. It IS my mom. Somehow I know it this time. I can feel the tears running down my face as I squeeze behind my bed, hiding in the small cubby hole there as I hear more gunfire.

I lay there and listened to Roberts yelling at his men. He tells them to burn the house. His words don't register until I feel the heat and smell the smoke. I crawl from my hiding place, coughing as the smoke becomes thicker. I make it to the stairs before I collapse, my lungs aching for air. The sound of sirens begins to make its way to my ears and I crawl forwards, pulling myself down the stairs.

When I get to the bottom I see my mom lying on the ground. Flames are starting to appear on her legs and working their way up. The sirens are louder now and all I can think of is getting her to them. They would help her. My breath comes in painful hacks as I struggle to pull her to the door. But the fire has beaten me there. I stumble back as the heat blisters my skin, falling again to my knees. Then the door splinters. Firemen rush through. One grabs me, holding me protectively against him as he rushes outside. As he lifts me up I look back over his shoulder at the motionless, smoking form of my mom.

The memory fades again and I feel a cold wind. I can hear the crunch of snow as I'm carried along. When I finally started to wake up I still didn't move; partly because the person carrying me was running and I didn't want to make them trip, and partly because I still ached all over. My eyes were halfway cracked open, watching the ground pass by. I began seeing tree trunks and other vegetation and soon we were slowing down. Kim, who had been carrying me over her shoulder (another pang of bitterness at that realization), knelt down, leaning me against a tree while Stoppable went back a bit to make sure we weren't followed.

"Bonnie?" Seeing my eyes open, Possible moved to wipe some of the blood from my face. "Are you okay?"

" 'm fine," I croaked, slapping her hand away with as much force as a wet noodle. "I don' need y'r help." Possible looked a little surprised at my snippy reply. Frankly, I was rather surprised myself. I had no reason to hate the girl, yet everything about her just rubbed me the wrong way. Luckily I was saved any awkwardness by Ron showing up.

"Not followed," he said, rather breathless from running.

"That won't last," I shot back, managing to pull myself up a little straighter. "They'll have guards combing the whole area soon."

"You're right," Possible agreed, looking back over her shoulder. "We're gonna have to get outta here fast. Think you can walk?"

"I said I was fine," I growled, standing up only to fall down again when my leg gave out, bringing a fresh nosebleed as I whacked against the tree. Wiping at my nose with my sleeve, I grudgingly accepted Possible's help in standing. Being more careful this time, I eventually managed to stay on my feet unaided and we were soon putting as much distance between ourselves and site C as we could.

My pack had been left in the room we had found Possible in, but luckily Ron still had his which contained another jacket and gloves for Kim who was still in nothing but the hospital clothing. We didn't have any extra boots so we cut off strips of a blanket to tie around her feet. It wasn't great, but it would do for now. Still afraid of pursuit by the guards, we hurried on into the woods surrounding the compound, crossing over a couple streams in an attempt to hide our tracks. I mostly tailed along behind Possible and Ron, feeling a little worthless next to the red-head's obvious experience. As night began to fall Kim decided it was about time for a break. Though I'd never have admitted it, I was relieved for the rest; my feet had been aching for the last mile or so.

"Wait here for a second," Possible said, turning back the way we came, "I'm gonna circle back and look for any guards." In a second she had vanished into the trees, leaving Ron and me by ourselves. His eyes remained locked on were Kim had disappeared from sight, the look on his face was bringing back that bitter feeling in my gut. I had been doing my best to ignore those thoughts for awhile now, but somehow they just kept creeping in.

"So," I finally said, growing sick of the silence, "you two old friends or something?" Ron glanced over at me in mild surprise, whether from my sudden interest or from the question itself I couldn't say.

"Um," his voice was still hesitant and reserved from the effects of the drugs, but he seemed more inclined to talk. "Yeah. We've been... friends since... pre-school." He looked back towards the path Possible had taken, his eyes taking on an almost wistful look. "We're... family." About a second after he said that last word, his eyes darted back in my direction, a look of extreme pity easily readable. I only grunted to his answer, refusing to think about what that look meant and about how sickened I was at the thought of him and Possible pitying me.

We were saved from any more awkward conversation by Kim's return. She was breathing a little heavily with the effort of running through the snow and she paused a little, catching her breath, before speaking.

"No one's following," she said, causing me to release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "We'll work a little further into the trees where there's less snow and take a break till morning." The sky was just starting to show signs of dusk as we walked deeper into the shelter of the forest. It wasn't long before we had a fire going and the sleep rolls from Ron's pack laid out. There wasn't much conversation as we ate some of the rations we had brought along. I passed most of the time watching Kim and Ron touch each other. It wasn't intentional I don't think, more of a subconscious need to reassure themselves that the other was still there, mostly just a hand on the arm or knee.

Part of me was kind of touched, and a little envious, of the obvious signs of their caring for each other. Another part, however, just wanted to roll its eyes at the tender scene and say something cruel and scathing. These thoughts of hostility were rather confusing. I had few memories from before the hospital, but it was obvious that I had known these two at some point and I found it a little worrying that Ron had sparked no memory or emotion in me, yet Possible kept making these hateful feelings boil to the surface. Was my hatred so important to me that it would be one of the only parts of my memory that stayed intact? Even the memories of my house and family burning were not as tangible as my instinctive disliking of this girl. It sort of made me wonder just what kind of a person I was.

"Hey," Kim suddenly called softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. Ron had fallen asleep on one of the bed rolls, his face looking a little healthier than when I had found him in the asylum. "So, Ron says you don't remember anything. Nothing at all?" She turned the second part of the statement into a question and I squashed the immediate reaction to tell her it was none of her business.

"Not much," I answered instead. "I've been remembering a few things, mostly when I'm sleeping, but it's all a little blurry."

"What do you remember?" she asked, her voice still kind and gentle. All it did, however, was grate on me even more, but I forced myself to be as polite as I could.

"I remember a gym," I started slowly, trying to put the jumbled memories into an order that seemed right. "Someone attacked it. I think they were looking for you." I couldn't hide the bitter tone that crept into my voice at that statement. "Other than that, I remember some soldiers, a woman mostly, and lots of shooting. And... " my voice caught in my throat a little as I tried to continue. "... I... remember my house... burning. I remember my mom d... " I stopped there, not able to go on. Possible didn't say anything, just looked at me sadly as I tried to stop my hands from shaking. "Is there anyone left?" I asked softly once I had calmed down a little. Somehow I already knew the answer.

"They... " Possible choked a little herself, her eyes tearful as she stared at me, not wanting to tell me. "I'm sorry Bonnie," she finally whispered, turning her head downwards to hide her face. Deep down I had known the truth of course, but part of me still sunk at her answer. For awhile neither of us talked, our eyes on the crackling fire as we both lost ourselves in our own thoughts.

"I... wasn't a good person, was I?" I finally asked, looking towards her again.

"No," she immediately said, trying to deny it, "you... you could be nice when you wanted. It was just..."

"Don't lie to me, Possible," I spat, cutting her off. And suddenly, there it was. She hid it well, wiping the look from her face and turning away a little, but I had still seen it. That look of disgust and frustration that was an instinctual reaction to my crass statement. Maybe I was empathing some of her feelings even, but regardless, the conclusion was the same. She hated me. Not maliciously and perhaps not even willingly, but it was still there. "Yeah," I said, smiling grimly, "that's what I thought."

"Bonnie, I didn't mean... " she said quickly, trying to deny it of course, but trailing off when she couldn't find the words. She finally sighed and gave up, turning to go to bed. "Look, I'll, um, sleep with Ron. You can have the other bed." She spoke quietly, obviously feeling guilty. I nodded and went over to lay down. I glanced back as I kneeled down, watching as Kim climbed under the blanket with Ron, snuggling against him a little as she closed her eyes. There was nothing sexual about it, more of a sisterly thing. I know she meant well, trying to give me my space/privacy or whatever. She just didn't realize that as she curled up under the blanket with Ron, I was left with nothing but the cold night and my own thoughts. And neither of them was comforting. I finally fell asleep, my head still full of questions about who I used to be.

_ The dreams came rather quickly, suddenly surrounding me with what looked like a camp ground. I couldn't say for sure, but I think I was younger, though I couldn't tell you how much younger. Other girls were gathered around the grass, going through different routines. I was right there with them, going through the flips and choreography, feeling a hint of pride at my slight superiority to the rest. One girl in particular was having quite a bit of trouble._

_ I could tell she knew how to do the routine, but her movements were stiff and jerky, causing her to loose rhythm and end up stepping out of synch with the rest. Of course this caused the mandatory giggles from some of the others which brought the expected reddening of the girl's face. The practice soon ended and the group broke into smaller groups, the normal teenager conversations striking up. I joined one of the groups briefly, but eventually got bored with them and wandered off on my own._

_ I passed another gathering of three or four girls, giggling and whispering to each other. From what I heard, the topic of their amusement was the unsteady blonde girl. They seemed completely ignorant of the fact that the girl in question was sitting nearby and that their whispers were loud enough for both her and me to hear every word. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her face red and almost tearful. Not that I gave it much attention. I wasn't the Peace Corps after all; I had no obligation to try and make her feel better._

_ Wandering further from the others I eventually stopped in a small clearing not far away. Climbing up on a stack of boulders I kicked off my shoes, letting my slightly aching toes wiggle in the breeze. As always, my solitude didn't last. A wave of annoyance washed over me as the blonde stumbled out of the trees, walking dejectedly across the clearing to slump against a tree. It was obvious she was on the verge of crying. I rolled my eyes at the sight. Why was everyone so dramatic about everything?_

_ "Would you cut it out?" I finally called, rather harshly. The girl looked up, startled. Her pained expression went from surprised to shamed and then got even more depressed, if that was possible. I sighed again. I had seen girls like her before, all weak and sensitive. It made me sick. "Bawling isn't going to help anything," I snapped at her. "What's your problem anyway?" Of course, I knew exactly what was wrong, but I had to keep up the air of indifference._

_ "Everyone's laughing at me," she sniffed, wiping at her nose. "They're all whispering to each other about me, I can tell."_

_ "Well it's not that surprising. Given the way you were stumbling about out there," I answered immediately. I couldn't be babying every girl who was having problems._

_ "I KNOW how to do it," she suddenly said, surprising me a little with the sudden bite in her voice. For a second her fists tightened and her eyes narrowed into a glare that fixed right on my own. It only lasted for a moment, however, before the defeated slump came back and her eyes dropped to the ground. "I just... get so nervous," she mumbled. For awhile I just watched her sitting there, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. My initial labeling of her as just another frail little airhead was now in question. That sudden show of anger intrigued me. Maybe there was something more to this girl after all._

_ "It's obvious you can do it," I finally said, earning a surprised look. "If you weren't so uptight you wouldn't have so much trouble."_

_ "Well what do you expect me to do," she cried, the anger showing again. "The coaches don't have time to help me and it's not like anyone else is gonna give me a hand." She dropped her head back into her arms. I rolled my eyes again, dropping down from my seat and walking over to her._

_ "Get up," I said flatly. She looked up again, her expression confused. "Do you want some help or not," I sighed impatiently. The girl finally got the message, quickly pulling herself up and standing there, looking grateful and sheepish._

_ "Th-thanks, Bonnie," she mumbled shyly. I didn't ask how she knew my name; everyone knew who I was._

_ "Well you're too dang pathetic on your own," I answered, looking her up and down. "Maybe if I can give you a little backbone you won't be such a waste." I motioned her to follow me, but then paused, glancing back. "What's your name, by the way," I asked. She looked up, surprised, a small smile making its way to her face._

"Tara," the name slipped from my mouth as I woke up. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, actually feeling pretty good for once. This had been the first dream that hadn't involved the pain and death that seemed to have filled my life before I was taken by the NDC. The blonde girl, Tara, seemed to register in my memory. It was a mix of friendship and protectiveness. I smiled a little, remembering the feeling from the dream when she had thanked me, her eyes so grateful. Maybe I wasn't such a bitch after all.

I pulled myself out of bed, looking over to see Ron rolling up the other bedroll and cleaning up the fire. I silently began helping, not really feeling like breaking the early morning stillness quite yet. My mind was still preoccupied with the dream, going over the memory again and again. It hadn't been a very dramatic or useful revelation, but it was a lot more enjoyable to dwell on than the others had been. As we finished cleaning up I finally decided to say something.

"Where's Possible?" I asked, looking over to Ron.

"Went to look for any guards," Ron answered shortly. "She was afraid some might still be trying to find us." He still seemed a little distant, but his over-all demeanor was getting much easier and friendly. Looking at him I got the feeling that the dower expression that he had worn ever since I met him was not Ron's natural disposition. Kim showed up soon after that, trudging back towards us through the snow.

"I went pretty far back, but there's no sign of anyone," she said, sounding a little concerned.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, puzzled by her seeming uneasiness.

"I'd expect them to have least searched into the woods a little farther," she answered as she helped us repack Ron's bag. "But there's no trace of them pursuing us past the first river. It's almost like something spooked 'em into calling it off." I wasn't sure whether to feel happy or worried about that idea. I suddenly understood why Kim was nervous.

"Guess we better get movin' then," I fastened up my coat and replaced my boots as Ron shouldered the pack and we made ready to leave. We started back through the woods, aiming for the highway that was still a good three miles away. The snow slowed our progress and made it harder to walk, but we pressed on, each of us motivated by the memories of our personal nightmares. My mind began to wander to other things, wondering about Greta and the others, feeling the pain of Troskey's death again... unfortunately I should have been watching where I was going as I smacked into a low hanging branch.

"Damn," I muttered, stumbling back and holding my throbbing nose. A drop of blood escaped, falling to the ground. My eyes suddenly latched onto it as it soaked into the snow. Another landed near it as my heart began beating faster and my vision clouded. _Then I was standing in a different place, somewhere that looked like site C. The people around me were falling to the ground, blood falling into the snow as gunfire tore through them. Someone grabbed me, pulling me away from the guns and into a building. She smiled, taking the dog tags from around her neck and putting it on mine._

_ "Don't look," she whispered, holding me close as pounding began on the door. Her rifle lay on the floor, ammunition completely spent. "Don't look." The door broke open. More gunfire tore through her and into me. We fell together, her body covering mine protectively even in death. I felt myself bleeding and my vision began to go dark._

_ "This one's still alive," someone said over me, poking at me with the barrel of his gun. "Should I finish 'er off?"_

_ "No," another answered, "get her to the docs first. They're lookin' for more subjects fer their new project. Might as well let 'em take a look at her. If they can use her they'll patch 'er up; if not... well, she won't be livin' that much longer anyway." I felt hands pull me from under the body and then... _and then Possible was shaking me by the shoulders as I kneeled in the snow.

"Bonnie!" Her voice was filled with so much concern. "Bonnie, what's wrong?" How could she be so worried about me? I didn't remember much, but I knew we weren't friends. For some reason her selfless caring just sickened me.

"I'm FINE, Possible," I growled, pushing her roughly away from me. I pulled myself to my feet, glaring at Kim. "Would you stop being so damned helpful. You don't like me and I'm pretty sure I didn't like you." My head was still swimming from my sudden vision. I knew I was getting panicked, but I couldn't seem to think straight anymore. "Why won't you just HATE ME!" I cried, my voice turning into a scream.

"Bonnie, please," Kim held up her hands defensively, trying to calm me down. "It's not like that. Just let me help... " She was suddenly cut off by a roaring noise from overhead. Turning around I saw some sort of aircraft hovering over the trees. It looked like a cross between a jet and a helicopter as it descended towards us.

**"Subjects Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable identified,"** a voice came over some sort of speaker system. **"Third hostile is unknown. Neutralize and proceed with pick-up."** I started to open my mouth to ask just WHAT was going on when a hatch on the bottom of the vehicle opened up. I caught a brief glimpse of someone with a rifle before a sharp pain lanced through my thigh. My vision was already going dark as I looked down at the dart in my leg. As the speaker sounded again I fell into the snow and slipped into unconsciousness.

**"Hostile neutralized. Retrieve targets."**

_To be continued..._

**_Yamal - _**_Yeah I've gotten really slow with my updates. This is a combination of worldly problems, a bout of writer's block, and just plain old laziness. Rest assured, I'm not abandoning this story and I WILL finish it. No matter how much I try to stop myself._

**_gargoylesama - _**_Thanks. I really wanted to keep her identity questionable right up until the end of chapter 5. Heh, I even threw in the little clone red herring in the middle of the same chapter. Glad to see you liked it._

**_Scarlet Azalea - _**_Yuck, exams. Hope those went well. As for the tense shift. Well, I could say that it was an artistic choice to make her dazed state seem more surreal. Or maybe I just screwed up and didn't notice. Either or, I guess._

**_swk3000 - _**_Gracious. I'm glad I wasn't too transparent. I wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise._

**_exeditor - _**_Thanks for the review. I think it should go another couple chapters or so. I sometimes add or delete stuff so it's hard to say. Spoilers in the reviews... ouch, I never even considered that. I'll have ta keep that in mind when I review stuff._

**_CheeseKing - _**_Well I didn't get it before the end of the month, but I guess it's better late than never (I hope). Anyway here's the next chapter for ya. And another cliffhanger. I'm incorrigible._

**_Gijinka Renamon - _**_Thanks, I shall._

**_Laura V. Bleediotie - _**_Hey thanks. It's nice to see that my attempt at a plot twist was kind of successful. Hope your head's still there since it took me so long to update. Eh, my creativity sometimes gets lethargic, what can I say._

**_TAS 14 - _**_Alright! It's nice to hear people are enjoying it so much. As to why Bonnie was running around with soldiers, well that'll be explained soon._

**_Jezrianna2.0 - _**_Hey, my little clone hint didn't go unnoticed. I really wanted to convey the feeling of confusion with this story and tried to keep just about everything questionable. Even the title was meant to change meaning, changing focus from the psychic experiments to whatever was going on in site C. I promise some major tying up of plot threads real soon. This all comes together, I swear._


	7. AntiClimax

_Ah, I'm FINALLY back. This story will continue. It'll probably be a couple more chapters, maybe three. Also look for a couple new stories I'm working on that should be up soon. As always, everything is owned by Disney. (P.S. Didn't know Tara's last name, so just used the actress')_

**Prodigy**

Chapter 7 - Anti-Climax

_Before:_

_Bonnie brushed off her outfit with as indifferent a manner as she could muster, checking for any rips she might have gotten in the struggle. All this was, of course, Possible's fault. It wasn't enough for her to prance about saving the world, she had to have thugs following her back to school and ruining things. And in the end, Bonnie hadn't needed 'Miss Perfect' after all. She'd escaped just fine on her own, though she conveniently forgot about the rest of the group that Kim had fought off single-handed. The cheerleader cast an annoyed glance at the red-headed nuisance in question as she stared at the hole in the gymnasium wall._

_"Something's fishy about this," Kim mused mostly to herself. "They were dressed like Drakken's henchman, but they didn't seem like his usual type. His thugs were never this precise. Besides, he'd have wanted to be here to gloat. And no way would Shego miss out on a chance to try and take me out..."_

_"Well, you coulda tried questioning one of them," Bonnie remarked smoothly. "Too bad you let 'em all get away. You'd think that a HERO would have done a little better."_

_"I didn't see you helping, Bonnie," Kim forced through gritted teeth, trying not to loose her cool._

_"Whatever," was the brunette's flippant reply. "Not my job, now is it. You're the big superhero around here Kimmie." With that she turned around and walked from the gym, leaving a seething Kim Possible in her wake. The students were dismissed for the remainder of the day because of the disturbance and Bonnie left with the rest of them, ignorant to the pair of eyes that watched her through binoculars._

_"Sir, shouldn't we be getting out of here?" Major Greg Roberts turned from his observation of the girl to stare holes in the soldier who'd asked the question._

_"The girl saw my face, Howards," Roberts answered, his voice like ice. "She gives a description to the cops, which gets to the military, and it'd be pretty simple for them to find me. And even if she wouldn't normally talk, Possible knows she saw me too and she'd make sure that the authorities knew it."_

_"Well, what should we do then, sir?" Roberts raised the binoculars again, watching the girl a little longer before answering._

_"Find out where she lives."_

The blackness of sleep slowly began to lift and sensation slowly started to return to my body. I could feel cool metal against my back through the shirt I was wearing, which made me realize I was inside somewhere warm and my coat was gone. There seemed to be restraints on my wrists and ankles as well which caused my panic level to spike a little. What really snapped be out of it though, was the small burning felling in my arm. My eyes snapped open to find myself strapped to a table and someone sticking a needle into my arm. The buzzing flared up and the guy hardly had time to notice I was awake before he was thrown into the wall. I held him there as I mentally ripped the straps from my arms and legs.

"What the hell were you doing?" I ground out, my vision going a little red from anger and panic. He started to make some official sounding lecture about how I shouldn't be assaulting anyone and such, but I cut him off. "What the HELL were you DOING!" He winced as I accented my question by knocking him against the wall again.

"Just taking a blood sample," he gasped, struggling futilely against the invisible force that held him. The guy couldn't have been much older than me and looked about as clean cut as you could get. Even his hair was slicked back perfectly, except for what had come loose from me tossing him around. Before I could ask him where I was, however, someone shouting from the door cut me off.

"Put him down," two people wearing the same uniform as the guy I held were standing in the doorway, their guns trained on me. My confident attitude faltered a bit, but my brain still seemed to be thinking. A few of the metal stools in the room began floating into the air, causing the two at the door to grip their weapons a little harder and repeat their warning. Of course, I was still a little to out of it to completely understand them and my brain wasn't cooperating at all, still preparing to hurl the stools at them. Luckily a third person appeared, diffusing the situation rather quickly.

"Agents, stand down immediately." The guns were instantly holstered and the two people moved aside to make room for the newcomer. She wore a variation of the same outfit, but from the way she acted it was obvious she was the one in charge. I suddenly felt rather small under her hard gaze, the eye patch over one eye only adding to the effect. Still, I had plenty of attitude of my own and a bit of frustration to work out as well. Shaking off the feelings of inferiority I returned her cool look with the best glare I could manage.

"What's going on here?" I demanded as forcefully as I could, though I could hear the slight tremor in my own voice. The one-eyed woman walked calmly into the room, as though the situation was completely normal though she kept to the edges, like she was trying not to appear threatening.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up to such disturbing surroundings, Miss Rockwaller," she spoke slowly and evenly to calm me down, and I'll admit that it was working a little. "It was obvious you had sustained several injuries, and we wanted to make sure you were in good health." Okay, the guy HAD been taking a blood sample. Maybe I could buy that.

"And who is 'We'?"

"Global Justice," she answered. "We have been looking for you for quite some time Miss Rockwaller."

"Looking for me?" I repeated warily.

"You and Miss Possible to be precise," she had eased a little closer, but still kept the calming attitude. "Ever since you went missing and the military team you were with was found dead. When we received word that Miss Possible's tracking chip had reactivated, of course we rushed to her location. I'm sorry about the tranquilizer, but we weren't sure who you were at the time and didn't want to take any chances."

"Where's Ron and Kim?" It sounded plausible and I really wanted to believe her. I just had to see Kim and Ron to be sure. The woman nodded a bit in understanding and spoke into a communicator.

"Please inform our guests that their friend is awake and would like to see them." She turned back to me after issuing the orders, giving me a small but reassuring grin. "They were being debriefed on what they know, and Mr. Stoppable required some examination for drug intake. We sent them to a room to rest for awhile, but they insisted on being told when you recovered. I'm sure they'll be here shortly."

As if on cue, the two of them suddenly ran through the door, pausing when they noticed the guy hovering against the wall. Looking them over I couldn't find anything wrong, and they actually looked a lot better than they had. Both looked rested and Ron seemed more stable than before, the glazed jittery look to his eyes was almost completely gone.

"Bonnie?" Kim spoke first, glancing nervously between me and my 'hostage'. "Are you okay?" I mumbled that I was fine. With both Ron and Kim here apparently free and unharmed, I was starting to believe that I was safe. Of course, that meant that my current position started making me feel a little ridiculous.

"Miss Rockwaller came to while we were taking a blood sample and became a little agitated. Understandably of course," she added, raising an eyebrow in my direction. "Speaking of which; would you mind letting Agent Du down now?" I nodded sheepishly at the floor, the guy on the wall slowly lowering to the ground as the buzzing in my head receded. Everyone except the woman visibly relaxed and Kim and Ron hurried over to me. I'll admit that while I still had those spiteful feelings toward the red head, she and Ron being here put my mind at ease.

"Hey Bonnie," Kim greeted softly as she reached me, putting a hand on my arm as if to comfort me. I gave the hand a stern glare, but didn't say anything. I'd let her get away with it for now. "Sorry we weren't here when you woke up, but they've had us answering questions and getting examined ever since we got here. Then they shooed us off to our room insisting we needed rest."

"You know these guys?" I asked them, still a little wary.

"Yeah, Global Justice," Ron answered, his calm tone surprising me. "They're like the real life version of all those spy organizations you see in the movies. They're usually okay, but... well after all, they ARE spies."

"Oh knock it off Ron," Kim waved off his statement. "Global Justice is just like any other government agency. A little stiff sometimes, but they're the good guys. We lucked out having them find us. Hey Dr. Director," she called over to the one-eyed woman. "I'm gonna take Bonnie to our room so she can get cleaned up, okay?"

"Of course," the Director answered, looking up from her shushed conversation with the Du guy. "I should tell you, we felt obligated to inform some people of your safe recovery and they should be showing up soon. Still, you have plenty of time to rest a little before they arrive."

"What people," Kim asked, hope edging at her voice.

"Your parents of course. And we sort of had to invite Mr. Load as well, seeing how he was instrumental in your retrieval."

"BOO-YAH!" Just about everyone in the room flinched at Ron's sudden shout. He withered a little under the looks, shrugging sheepishly. "Sorry. Just got too excited for a minute there."

"You and me both," Kim laughed happily. "C'mon guys, lets get ready before they get here." Ron and I were almost dragged along by the girl back to the small, but comfortable room that Global Justice had put us in. Kim insisted that I take first turn in the shower since she and Ron had already had a little time to rest. I'll admit I didn't put up much of a fight over it. The very thought of a shower was enough to make me weak at the knees. I may not have remembered anything about my past, but I think I could safely say that that shower was one of the best I've ever had. For the longest time I simply stood under the warm water, letting it run down my shaven scalp and over the rest of my body. I honestly felt like lying down on the floor and just resting there for awhile, but eventually finished washing and rejoined Kim and Ron.

"Hey, you enjoy that as much as I did?" Kim smiled as she turned toward me. Despite my inherent dislike for the girl, I had to agree.

"Didn't realize how dirty I felt till I got in there," I said, letting out a contented sigh as I laid down on one of the beds.

"Don't get too comfortable," the red head added apologetically. "Dr. Director wanted to go over your examination with you after you were done. She already ran through me and Ron's with us."

"Damn," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. "More probing and poking. Can't I just get a few minutes rest without someone wanting me to go somewhere or do something?"

"The Director's a real stickler for 'procedure'," Ron said sympathetically, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "Still, it'd probably be a good idea to know just what those NDC guys did to you, wouldn't it?" I could tell he was trying to make me feel better and I had to admit, I'd come to like the guy a little in the time we'd spent together after me and the Doc had rescued him. His encouraging words only made a small dent in my sour mood, however. But I couldn't fault him for trying.

"Fine," I sighed. "Five minutes; then I'll go see her."

"We'll go with you," Kim added, trying to lend some support. I simply rolled my eyes.

"Fine, if you gotta," I groaned darkly. Underneath the act, though, I was actually relieved. I was still pretty nervous about this 'Global Justice', and having Kim and Ron with me went a long way toward helping. After delaying as long as I could, I finally gave in and we headed off for the Director's office. The hallways were all sleek, metal and futuristic looking. I had yet to see a window anywhere and suddenly realized I had no idea where we actually were. I shoved the thought aside as we reached the office door. Kim knocked, receiving a muffled 'come in'.

"Ah, thank you for joining me," the woman smiled, looking up from some notes on her desk as we walked in. "This is Dr. Harold Kobb and Agent William Du," she gestured to the other two occupants of the room, one being an older looking man in a white coat and the other was plainly the guy from the medical room. "I believe you've already met Agent Du." There was the faintest hint of amusement in her voice as she looked from him to me. I simply muttered an apology that Agent Du merely nodded at.

"So, you wanted to talk to me about my 'check-up'," I said, taking one of the seats she gestured to.

"Yes. Dr. Kobb has finished his report and I thought you might want to know what he's found." The Director turned to the older man, motioning for him to begin.

"Ah yes, of course." He opened up the file he'd been holding, leafing through the papers inside. "Here we are. Rockwaller, Bonnie. First let me put your mind at ease by saying that apart from your obvious injuries, you are in fine health. The gunshot wounds to your abdomen are healing nicely and the swelling around that eye should be gone in a day or so. However, there seems to be a couple of side-effects to what was done to you. Nothing serious mind you, but they are there."

"Like what," I asked a little nervously.

"Well, due to the large amount of electrical activity they triggered in your brain, some nerve endings were a bit 'scorched' as it were." He paused to take out a few x-rays, pointing to spots as he talked as if I had ANY idea what he was talking about. "Your optical nerves received a small shock leaving you with slight short-sightedness. Have you noticed things being a bit blurred the farther away they are?"

"I suppose," I answered hesitantly, "but I can't exactly... remember how well I saw before." Kobb nodded briefly in understanding before going on.

"It wouldn't be too noticeable, but you'll probably want to get glasses for driving. For legal purposes if nothing else. Next," he indicated another x-ray, "is your scalp. A large amount of it was fried pretty good, almost killing the roots. To put it simply, most of your hair won't grow any longer than it is now. There are a few small patches that aren't quite as dead, but even those won't get very long."

"Okay, glasses and REALLY short hair," I sighed as calmly as I could. "Anything else?"

"One more thing," he grinned sympathetically, motioning to the last x-ray. "Quite a few of the veins in your cranium were zapped, literally cooking them. Now your natural skin tone covers up most of them, but you will notice that your cornea will appear a bit bloodshot. As I said, nothing too serious. Other than that you're quite healthy. Well, for someone who's been through what you three have been through at least."

I nodded in understanding and he started putting away his papers, signaling that he was done. The Director thanked him for coming and followed him out of the office, excusing herself to us.

"I'll just be a moment," she said as she left. The room was quiet for a few minutes after the door had closed. Finally Kim broke the silence.

"I'm sorry Bonnie," she almost whispered, moving to put a reassuring hand on my leg, but then seeming to think better of it.

"Sorry for what?" I asked in a normal voice.

"Well... your hair and... the glasses," she stumbled over her words a little, obviously thrown off by my response. "I mean, I know how much... how important your appearance was to you." A nice way of saying 'vain and self-absorbed', I added in my head.

"Was I?" I asked, actually laughing a little. "Guess I don't remember."

"Oh yeah," she mumbled, suddenly looking horribly guilty. "Sorry."

"Just... stop apologizing Kim," I sighed back at her, consciously pushing back the instinctual snippy reply. "Look, I was worried I'd end up having a brain tumor or something. Compared to that, 'bald and glasses' just doesn't worry me all that much. Maybe it's the amnesia or maybe it's everything that's happened the last few days, but I really don't care all that much about..." I trailed off, gesturing to my head and face.

"I... keep forgetting you don't remember anything," Ron said sheepishly. "Sometimes you just seem so... YOU."

"Like when I'm biting Kim's head off for nothing," I said wryly, a tired smile spreading across my face.

"Well... yeah." There was a bit of a grin in his voice and even Kim chuckled a little. After that a more comfortable silence reigned for awhile until it was broken by the door opening to reveal the Director.

"Sorry for interrupting," she said matter-of-factly, "but your parents have just arrived." The change in Kim and Ron was immediate, switching from subdued to ecstatic in less than a second. The Director grinned as she stepped out of the way of their rush to the door, telling them that one of her agents would lead them down to the entrance. I remained in my seat even as their excited voices faded off down the hallway. When I finally did turn around I found the Director standing in the doorway watching me.

"Not going down with them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Nobody down there that I know, right?" She shook her head in answer to my question. "Might as well let them have some 'family time' then." I shrugged, finding myself unable to hold the woman's one-eyed stare.

"I suppose so," she sighed, walking over to stand beside my chair. I could feel her eye boring a hole in the top of my head as I kept my gaze fixed straight forward. "You must be pretty worn out after all you've been through," she continued. "After what they did to you; these new abilities of yours... I bet you're feeling rather overwhelmed."

"I'll be fine," I muttered without much conviction. The buzzing had started up in my head again and I could almost hear the Director's voice whispering in my skull. It was muted and I couldn't make out the words, but I didn't like the feeling I was getting from them.

"Don't be silly," she spoke calmly, laying a hand gently on my head in a comforting fashion. It only served to heighten my unease. "The things you can do now. It's scary if you think about it. And you with no home to go back to. No one waiting to help you get through the ramifications of your ordeal." Her hand began moving back across my head in a soft stroking movement, as though she were comforting a small child. "Would you like that? Having somewhere to stay with people who would understand your problems and help you with them?"

My mind had steadily been getting sluggish. The buzzing still brought the whispers of the Director's thoughts to me, but something in her voice and the soft way she was 'petting' my head, left my own thoughts mired in grogginess. My eyelids were half closed and it was all I could do not to immediately agree with whatever she said. The buzzing kept me from doing it though; the suspicious feelings I was picking up from her was enough to get me out of there.

"Is there a cafeteria around here," I asked suddenly, my voice almost breathless with my desperation to get away from the cycloptic woman.

"Yes. Take the elevator to 3 and it's the third set of doors on your left." If she had been surprised by my sudden change in subject, she didn't show it. Her hand slid off my scalp as I quickly stood up and nearly ran for the door. "Think about what I said, Bonnie," she called to me. "You're a smart girl. You know as well as I do, that you can never go back to the way it was. Even if you could remember it."

I paused only a second, not even turning to look at her. Then I was walking swiftly away from the office and toward the elevator. I waited impatiently for the doors to open, rushing in and jabbing the '3' button roughly once it arrived. As the doors slid shut, I backed into the corner of the small space. My arms wrapped tightly around my waist and I found I was shivering a little. After that conversation I was wondering if my troubles were as over as I thought they had been.

To be continued...

_Okay, I heard a rumor that we weren't supposed to personally answer reviews in the stories anymore. Not sure if it's true or not, but better to be safe I suppose. So here's a general thank you to all the reviewers and if you have any questions you want answered, let me know and I'll send you an email. Till next time folks!_


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